


Exceptions

by rinverse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Eventual Smut, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Trying, POV Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars Alternate Universe - No Force, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, better yet watch obi-wan do that for me, cant decide if this is angst or fluff, sex with feelings because they need it, so lets go with sappy, watch me try to fix anakin's unhealthy habits, with a futuristic touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinverse/pseuds/rinverse
Summary: Young and brilliant, Anakin is the mind behind JEDI Tech’s latest innovation. Obi-Wan is the company’s perfectly composed Director of PR & Marketing. And last night, they were just two strangers at a bar, looking for something quick and easy. But life had other plans when it crossed their paths again the very next day.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 31
Kudos: 243





	Exceptions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, dearest Reader!
> 
> This is my first shot at ObiKin and as such, I felt it should be something short and honestly quite a departure from the usual plot-heavy stories that I like to concoct. I don't know how active the ObiKin tag is in 2021 but to all two of you who've accidentally stumbled upon this:
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one! :)
> 
> **NSFW warning for Explicit Sexual Content.**

When Anakin finally awoke, it was to the unwelcome but not unfamiliar whir of a twisting headache. The kind that only ever arose following a string of questionable decisions. As if Anakin needed any more reminders of what had transpired. Today, the aftermath of said decisions was evident enough already—from the foul aftertaste of alcohol that clung to the back of his throat to the bed, which was comfortable but not his bed. And this was decidedly not his room.

He groaned, mentally retracing his footsteps. It had started with the Outlander Club. The drinks, one after the other and in too rapid a succession. The handsome man sitting by the bar, the one that Anakin had thought would be out of his league but whom he couldn’t help but make a pass at anyway. And the man had laughed at Anakin’s joke. Had smiled so prettily when Anakin had placed his hand on his knee, then up his thigh. He remembered the hovercab ride that had been spent in ardent kisses. The stranger’s flat, the hallway, the bedroom—

And _oh_ , Anakin’s headache was peaking now.

He was alone, which could only mean one thing: the stranger was awake. And it was always awkward when they woke before he’d had the chance to make his exit. Queue in the small talk, the uncomfortable silence, sometimes the regret. Just his kriffing luck. Could this morning get any better?

With some effort, Anakin pulled himself out of bed and went around the room in search of his clothes. He was certain he’d find them lying about on the floor, discarded in the heat of last night’s events and in a crumpled display of absolute unseemliness, but no. They sat on a chair by the bed, neatly folded and stacked. Which was nice, he ventured, but also somewhat of an odd thing to find after a one-night stand. Maybe not, maybe he’d just never had any other guy do it before. Then again, he usually left before dawn.

Wishing he could just teleport away, Anakin tried to navigate the stranger’s apartment and its corridor that twisted around rooms with closed doors. He remembered nothing of how they’d gone from point A, Anakin pushing through the front door, to point B, Anakin pushed against the bed. All he remembered was how good it felt, which was first of all unhelpful and second—unfortunate, as he most certainly did not feel _good_ right now.

Finally, Anakin spotted the man in the kitchen, his back to him. He’d clearly not heard him yet. _Just say hello_ , Anakin told himself, _no need for this to be awkward_. Except that it would be, though he had no other choice but to just get on with it.

Anakin cleared his throat, drawing the man’s attention. “Morning.”

“Hello there,” the man said and smiled widely like he’d done the night before, when Anakin had first approached him. By all accounts, he was every bit as handsome now as he’d been in the dim light of the bar. And still most definitely out of Anakin’s league. “I’m about to make breakfast. You’re certainly free to join if you’d like to stay for that sort of thing.”

“Thanks but work starts early,” Anakin began awkwardly, “and I’ve still got to swing by mine first.”

That was, of course, a lie. Anakin had made sure to check the alarm clock by the man’s bedside before he’d left the room. He had enough time to get home, shower, maybe even watch something on HoloTube, and still make it to work earlier than usual. If anything, his job started later than for others, what with Anakin basically shifting his hours to work half-day, half-night.

“Right,” the man said with a polite smile. Regardless of whether he believed Anakin or not, he didn’t seem to mind either way and perhaps even preferred that Anakin didn’t stay. “A cup of caf, at least?”

“Just water, thanks.”

Throat still very dry and every bit raw from the night before, Anakin drained the glass. And the second, which the man poured for him without a word but with evident amusement.

As far as post-one-night stand mornings went, it wasn’t as bad as Anakin had first deemed it. The man pointed him towards the bathroom and after Anakin had splashed water on his face, he was just about awake and sober to get himself going. As they said their goodbyes, Anakin had firmly kept his right hand—his bionic arm—away from the stranger’s immediate line of sight. He hated when they asked and though the man hadn’t done so yet, Anakin hoped he would keep up that courtesy until he’d left. After Anakin had put on his shoes, the man had surprised him by leaning to kiss him on the cheek for the good night and goodbye. Well, if all one-night stands were this agreeable, Anakin felt he’d certainly been missing out by hurrying back home with the first rays of dawn.

At the back of the hovercab he’d flagged down, Anakin yawned and thought only of one thing: he needed to get his life together. He always said so after nights like this one but he’d never seemed to have learned his lesson before.

Today would be no exception . . .

  
  


══════════════════

  
  


By the time JEDI Technologies came into view, a tall building dwarfing all others in its vicinity, it was still much too early for Anakin to be going to work. But he’d had nothing to do and so he’d decided to start the day already, hoping the tasks ahead would pull him back into nice and proper shape again.

Not that ‘nice and proper’ had ever been words that people seemed to associate with Anakin Skywalker. 

If anything, Anakin appeared to have built himself a somewhat troubling reputation. To his coworkers and the odd board member who’d actually met him, Anakin was known for three things. A notorious laser-sharp glare, a penchant for disregarding rules when it felt convenient that he did so, and always having something to say. Neither description was particularly flattering and yet, he could hardly deny any of it. Even he knew better than to side against the truth. 

But he was still JEDI Technologies’ poster boy, at least on paper. It was Anakin who’d come up with the next top-line droids. No one would have bothered putting up with him if he wasn’t so good at what he did, after all. They needed his futuristic vision and his prototypes that were going to be the next big thing. Everything else seemed to unfold around _his_ ideas, nobody else's.

Besides, Chief Executive Palpatine seemed to genuinely like him and appreciate his work, unlike Anakin’s direct superior—

“Skywalker,” Director Windu greeted with little enthusiasm. “You’re early for once.”

Anakin frowned. What were the chances of bumping into _him_ so early into the day? “I thought it might appease you, boss. You know, _for once_ ,” he said, throwing the acidic words right back at him. 

“It doesn’t. In fact, I can’t decide what’s more frustrating, seeing you come to work whenever you like or having to deal with your antics first thing in the morning.”

Good to know. Anakin needn’t bother trying to keep a nine-to-five schedule in the future then. Not that he’d ever bothered before. It was one of the things that Palpatine encouraged (“You cannot tell a genius when his mind should work, Director Windu!”) and the rest just had to tolerate.

They stepped into one of the elevators, the space filled with silence. Well, silence and the near-palpable mutual feeling of not wanting to occupy it with pleasantries that were lost on both of them.

Windu was the first to speak, giving him a sidelong look. “Well, seeing as you’re here already, how about you start working on those motion tests? I know you haven’t done anything about the wiring issue yet.”

“Might as well check the sensors too. The mechanics didn’t say if they were sure about the source of the problem, did they?”

“Which is why you’d best check both, I agree.” Oh, that was rare. “Just don’t let the tests run too long. There’s still the matter of Director Kenobi’s visit.”

“Visit?” Anakin asked.

“Yes, Skywalker, visit. This afternoon. Your workshop.” Right, that was today. Not next week. Apparently. “And you’d better not waste the man’s time, I doubt even he’d put up with that.”

“I thought it was just a department thing.”

What Anakin meant by this was, of course, that he’d rather hoped he’d not have to converse with anybody and that his coworkers would be doing this most strenuous social labour for him. It appeared they would not.

“The Director will discuss campaign ideas with you first to understand your vision as the _creator_ ,” Windu said. Anakin tried not to feel insulted by the sheer amount of venom lacing the last word. Almost as if it was a fake one that Anakin had made up and Windu had to stoop as low as to repeat it. “This is a very important launch, Skywalker, so do well to answer all of his questions. I know you think marketing isn’t a real job but it was Kenobi’s work that made the R-series such a big hit with the public.”

“I understand” was all Anakin could say in return. He’d never cared for the business side of things, but he was no fool. He knew that the new droid line was bigger than him and his workshop now, that its commercial success was beyond his capabilities.

Appearing almost winded from Anakin’s unexpected capitulation, his boss seemed appeased at last.

“It’s only for this week. After that, Kenobi’s team will work out the rest of the details so you don’t need to concern yourself further.” The elevator stopped and a voice, preceded by a pleasant chime, announced the Director floor of the Research & Development Division. “I will show Kenobi to your floor after the board meeting,” Windu said before climbing out. “By all means, try to make a good first impression.”

The young man frowned. When had he ever made a bad one?

Well . . . Not on purpose, at least.

Anakin’s shop was located on the same floor as several others, though they were carefully divided into distinct workspaces. They were all spacious, room-like cubicles with walls of tempered glass that barred all sound from leaking within or outside of the shops. The rooms had various light settings—best work environment of the year and all that corporate social responsibility bantha poodoo—but Anakin always set his to a faint, subdued glow. He’d even gone as far as to dim the glass panels on his side to keep movement in the other workshops from distracting him. It was simply how he preferred to work. The feeling as though it was the dead of night, everything dark, quiet, empty. Only his thoughts bouncing about the room, off the walls. In his glass workshop, Anakin lost all sense of time and space, just tinkering away until his fingers were numb and his brain stung from work. 

Today, he set about adjusting C-3PO’s motion work. The prototype’s movements were still a bit too jarring to Anakin’s liking. He wanted everything to run as smoothly as possible, no sudden, jouncing motions that would make the final product seem anything short of the next technological marvel. 

“Walk to the other side of the room and back,” Anakin instructed and waited.

The droid paused his chatter only to acknowledge the order and then continued where he’d left off. Anakin wasn’t paying much attention to the topic of conversation. As soon as he’d turned the droid on, 3PO had begun to talk on and on, and on, almost as if compensating for all the hours that he had spent shut down. Briefly, Anakin considered that he’d have to lower the ‘talkative’ setting for the final product. For now, he left it as it was; perhaps he liked listening to the constant buzz of somebody talking, even if his attention was always elsewhere.

Around lunchtime, Anakin finally felt some semblance of hunger. He quickly swung by the canteen, only to come back not five minutes later with a measly sandwich and a cup of caf. It wasn’t that he was in any rush to get back to his shop, but he despised being distracted from his work, especially for things as trivial as eating. It was the first time he’d stood from his desk all day and he only just realised he was still very much sore, feeling a dull ache as he shifted back on his chair.

He must have grimaced because 3PO, who had resumed his chatter most excitedly following Anakin’s return, paused and asked: “Is something wrong, sir?”

Anakin shook his head, profoundly embarrassed. As he often and much too easily was.

An hour or so later, he was still sipping his caf, though now completely cold, when the buzz of the workshop’s comlink jolted him out of his state of concentration. _Kriff_. Even though the glass panels to his shop were dimmed, he already knew it was Windu with the PR & Marketing Director in tow. Was it afternoon already? He’d been so engulfed in work that he’d lost track of time. Again. Just how many times could Anakin forget about his agenda in a single day?

He sighed and instructed 3PO to open the door, who complied with great eagerness.

“So kind of you to finally notice us, Skywalker,” he heard Windu bid, the scorn in his voice easily distinguishable.

Anakin removed his gloves and set them on the workbench, all the while flexing the fingers of his bionic. “If you don’t call for me, you’d be waiting forever. You know how it is when I get to work.”

“I do, but Obi-Wan doesn’t.”

“Right, of course. Director Kenobi.” Anakin watched the man in question walk into his shop. And promptly choked on his words. “Nice to meet— _you?!”_

_Kriff_.

Oh, this wasn’t happening . . .

Anakin knew it wasn’t. No way it was! And yet—

There he stood. The man from last night. The handsome guy who had brought him home, laid him in his bed. Kissed him goodbye just this morning. At present, right there in front of him. In his workshop. At work. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Director of PR & fucking Marketing.

Somewhere, the universe was having a laugh at Anakin’s expense. And he must have deserved it for something or other.

The man met his gaze in mutual recognition, though he appeared far more collected. His face betrayed no traces of shock or surprise, save for the faintest flush at the base of his neck. He’d likely already recognised Anakin as he’d waited outside the workshop, enough time to collect himself. Lucky him. Anakin, on the other hand, could hardly find a word within himself that wasn’t derogatory.

Kenobi held out his hand and as if in a dream, a nightmare really, Anakin shook it mechanically.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Kenobi said, all business. “The board often talks about your achievements with the protocol line and I was beginning to feel out of the loop.” Honestly, to Mustafar with him and his composure. “My apologies if this is a bad time. The last thing I’d want is to interfere with your work.”

In droid terms, Anakin was short-circuiting. He had no idea how to will himself to speak, much less respond properly. He’d taken this man’s cock between his lips last night. How was he supposed to introduce himself with that same mouth?

Briefly, Anakin dared a glance at Windu, whose cold stare seemed to speak for him: _Look at Kenobi, look at that politeness. That courtesy. You’d better return it if you want to continue working here_.

“I—”

_Now, Skywalker_!

“Right, yes. No! Err, I mean— _no_ , you’re not interfering with anything important,” Anakin said. Finally. Dumbly. With all the intelligence of a droid whose wiring had gone loose.

Meanwhile, C-3PO was having the time of his life. “Bless my circuits!” the droid exclaimed. “So many new people, oh my, how very exciting! My name is See-Threepio and it is an absolute delight to meet you all. I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch your names, sirs. It is certainly not my intention to intrude on your conversation but as I am first and foremost a human-cyborg relations droid—”

With a sigh, Anakin bent down to disconnect C-3PO, who fell silent at once. The last thing he needed was the protocol droid making things even worse, seeing as no one in the room shared any semblance of his enthusiasm.

“Director Kenobi,” Windu said as if the droid hadn’t spoken at all, “feel free to ask Skywalker here any questions you might have. He tends to go off on term-heavy tangents so don’t hesitate to interrupt him when he does. I know you’re a very courteous man but I’m afraid understanding subtlety is not Skywalker’s forté.”

Anakin frowned. Well. He was in no obligation to either confirm or deny that but it still felt unnecessary for Windu to throw him under the speeder like _this_.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

With the workshop door swinging shut behind Windu, it was just the two of them. And somehow, it was even worse. They lapsed into an awkward silence, staring at each other and then promptly looking away.

It was the same man, there was no mistake. Kenobi was shorter than him but where Anakin was lanky, he was lean and tight, and—kriff!—had Anakin loved it last night. His auburn hair was neatly styled back again, a distinct lack of any incriminating evidence as to how Anakin had pulled and laced his fingers through it. Kenobi was scratching his beard, likely thinking what to say and do with the situation at hand. But all Anakin could think about was how clearly he remembered the feeling of the man’s beard against his skin. 

This whole thing was ridiculous. Ridiculously _bad_.

Anakin could still feel the ghost of the man’s touch. His throat still burned lightly underneath the high collar of his sweater. Stung where Anakin had begged the man to wrap his fingers around it. And his body tingled with the feeling of his touch, like the phantom pain of a severed limb—should be there but was not.

“I must say, this is certainly unexpected,” Kenobi said at last and for all that Anakin felt uncomfortable, the other man seemed merely amused.

Anakin frowned. He was never, ever having another one-night stand without a background check first. Or a check through Ahsoka, as she seemed to have a trouble radar. 

“I’m glad at least one of us finds this amusing, Director.”

“Please, you should just call me Obi-Wan. It’s much too late for formalities, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Alright then, _Obi-Wan_.” Anakin raised his bionic and placed two fingers against his right temple. He could feel the return of this morning’s headache. This was going to be a long week. “Unless there’s anything you want to discuss about . . . well, last night, I say we put it behind us and get to work.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled, looking increasingly more amused as the conversation went on. “By all means, work it is. I already have quite a few campaign ideas that I’d like to run by you.”

  
  


══════════════════

  
  


“What am I supposed to do, Snips?”

He heard Ahsoka sigh through the phone. “ _That depends. How hot is he?”_

“It absolutely does _not_ depend on that.”

“ _Anakin_.”

“Eleven out of ten.” And the best kriff he'd ever had, though Anakin didn’t say that. In fact, in all the awkwardness, confusion, and shock, he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the memory of that night. And it had most certainly been a good night, by his standards anyway. “Also definitely out of my league.”

Ahsoka whistled. “ _Oh, I’m sure he figured that out as soon as he met you sober. How many times did you stutter?”_

Twice, but it wasn’t like he was going to admit it.

“I didn’t,” he said defensively. Not that any of this had to do with why he’d called. “You’re not really helping here, you know.”

“ _Look, I bet it’s awkward but these things happen and you’re both adults._ ”

“I get that. I just don’t know what he’s thinking. What if he regrets it so much that we can’t even work together on this? Sure, he’s a professional and all but no one can be _that_ professional, can they?”

“ _You’re being overdramatic again._ ” Anakin frowned. What did she mean ‘again’? “ _This isn't uni anymore. You're not stuck in seminars with him for the whole semester, are you? It's literally just a week. Besides, you said he’s older, right? I’m sure it doesn’t bother him as much as you think, definitely not enough to interfere with his work. And yes, people_ can _be that professional, just not you._ ”

Despite her habit of teasing him relentlessly, Ahsoka did have a point. It was why she was his best friend, always so rational when he wasn’t. Which seemed to happen often.

“I mean, okay, maybe I overreacted. He did look casual about it . . . Maybe he does this often. Hey, do you think—”

“ _Anakin, just don’t leap to conclusions before you even look at the facts. You do that sometimes and it’s really not helping you._ ”

Did he have a habit of doing that? Perhaps, but it was difficult not to jump to conclusions when his mind was constantly leaping from one thought to another like some podracer rushing past trackmarkers. There were days when the cogs in his brain were turning at impossible speeds but the world around him remained as dilatory as ever, dragging on with that same, frustratingly slow pace. Those days were the worst. He couldn’t even keep one thought locked down for long enough to register it. He felt so lost and in panic that he could barely breathe. 

But work helped, it always did. Anakin had long since found that his mind was only ever capable of concentration when his hands were working on something, studying it, taking it apart and putting it back together. Ahsoka, of course, knew all of that. She seemed to notice such details better than Anakin, often reading his thoughts before he’d guessed them himself. And she was right again: when he leapt to conclusions, there was nothing but disaster waiting on the other side.

He knew all about that, didn’t he? The memories he had of Padmé still burned like a slap . . .

But Anakin would handle his current predicament. If not for his own peace of mind, then at least for his work. The protocol droid series had gradually become everything he’d ever dreamed himself capable of creating. He wanted those droids to help people, to assist the elderly, the disabled, those who needed them. If he had to suffer through the awkwardness he himself had been complacent in creating, Anakin would do it. Of course he would. The success of the 3PO-series was his dream. He wouldn’t let anything deter him from seeing others’ lives be made better, easier through it.

So when Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared at his workshop the next day again, smile and all, Anakin thought nothing of it besides that he needed to give his best effort.

“Where did the original idea for the protocol droids come from?” Obi-Wan asked, sitting on the chair by Anakin’s desk, one leg crossed over the other.

“It started with See-Threepio here.” Anakin looked at the droid in the corner, currently turned off. “He’s the original protocol droid I made before joining the company. And the prototype for the series.”

“You made him _before_ you joined the company?”

“Well, parts of him anyway. He was talking and moving a bit, not as well as now, but it was enough that the company wanted to recruit me after I pitched the idea to a representative. You know, at one of those networking events at university.”

“That’s brilliant!” Obi-Wan said, looking impressed but mostly—unconvinced, was it? He didn't believe him then. “And what was your original idea for See-Threepio’s purpose?”

Anakin frowned. He’d expected questions like that at some point during their week and it was only natural that Obi-Wan would want to ask them early on. After all, if he wanted to truly understand what the 3PO-series was meant to do, he had to ask for its ideator’s purpose in creating it. Still didn’t make opening up about _that_ any easier.

“He was a personal project,” he said curtly, hoping his tone was enough to signal a need for a change of topic. Work or not, the man shouldn't pry. If only he would leave it at that.

Obi-Wan did not. He raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. University was easier with him around?”  
  
The way he said it, it was like the only reason Anakin might have had for 3PO was so the droid could write his essays through simple machine-learning and boil his instant noodles while Anakin was busy nursing a hangover. How unburdened Kenobi must think Anakin to be. But he didn't know anything about him. Not how poor he'd been, having to compete with the best of the best so he could stay on top of all his courses and keep the scholarship that paid his tuition. Working two part-time jobs just to put together enough money for food and rent. Using scrap metal from a junkyard for 3PO's original parts. No, Kenobi didn't have the faintest clue. Not about that. Not of how worried Anakin had been about his mother's health through it all, how devastated after . . .

It made Anakin's blood boil. How dare he assume? In that condescending tone no less!

“No, I wanted to make him for my mother,” Anakin said, trying to keep his voice devoid of any emotion. “Have him help her out around the house and all. She was sick, didn’t move much. Besides, I was studying abroad so I figured she must want someone to talk to during this whole time.”

“Well, she must be proud of you.”

Anakin bristled, the comment striking a nerve. “She passed away before I could give her a reason to be.”

Silence followed for a few awkward, drawn-out moments. He shouldn't have shared this, not when it was so personal, but he hadn't liked that Kenobi had pressed on and just kept assuming. Hadn't liked his tone. Had wanted to shut him up in the cruelest way possible. And judging from Kenobi's expression, he had succeeded.

“I’m terribly sorry, Anakin.” The man’s voice was gentle, if a little remorseful for pressing the conversation. “It wasn’t my place. I—We don't have to talk about this. I really am sorry.”

So why was Anakin feeling guilty?

“It’s been a few years now.” By which he meant that he was doing okay. But of course, that was a lie—when you lost someone that close, you were never going to be okay again, not in the same way. Because you weren’t the same person and it wasn’t the same _okay_. Not that Kenobi needed to know any of this about him, even if he did have a clear view of the way Anakin’s leg was lurching up and down in a nervous tick. “It helps me to think that when we launch the series, there’s going to be so many people whose lives we could make easier. That’s enough for me.”

“These droids will make a difference, I believe that too.”

Anakin nodded, accepting the olive branch. “It’s why I wanted to join the company.”

“To see that the series gets realised?”

“That. And to make a difference, I suppose.” He motioned towards his right arm. “I lost my hand in an accident when I was nine. We were really poor so we couldn’t afford a prosthetic. It was a struggle for a while since I had to relearn everything with my left hand, but then we got approached by JEDI. They were providing bionics to people in need through state funding.”

“I remember,” Obi-Wan said and jotted something down on his datapad. “It was a campaign we had going while I was still an intern here. Sadly, I can’t say I thought too much of it at the time.”

“For me, it was probably the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,” Anakin said, suddenly feeling himself eager to speak. He’d never shared this with Windu or anyone else within the company but he’d always felt so passionate about JEDI. Always felt it was his purpose to work here. “It gave me a future in a lot of ways, besides just being able to use my arm. It drove me to biomechanics, robotics, AI. I’ve always wanted to give someone else a future too, you know. Someday.”

“You will.”

Anakin looked up, taking notice that Kenobi was smiling at him—not in that manner of veiled amusement which seemed to be his trademark but in a gentle, reassuring way. It made Anakin feel oddly at peace, despite the turn of conversation towards areas where work and private mixed. 

“Anyway,” he said quickly. “I just hope the protocol droids help the people who need them most.”

“It’s my job to make that happen and I promise, I’ll do all that I can,” Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard, and looked down at his datapad again.

He had that expression of deep concentration about him; Anakin could practically hear the gears of his mind at work.

“In fact, I think what you’ve just told me has helped narrow down the approach. I reckon I can make a suggestion that we fund the provision of protocol units to a select few hospitals and care homes. Our programme is financially endorsed by the Senate’s treasury so it shouldn’t pose a problem for their administration to refer us to those state institutions that could not otherwise afford to purchase a Threepio-unit. Does that sound like something you’d see fit?”

Anakin felt himself staring a bit wide-eyed and wholly in awe. How had any of what he'd said been useful enough for Obi-Wan to come up with _this_? Then again, what did Anakin know about his line of work anyway?

“You mean you can do that?”

“Yes, of course I can do that.” Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head as though Anakin’s unguarded astoundment was far too generous, though decidedly not unwelcome. “I’ll have to speak to Director Plo first, though I doubt he’s going to disagree. He likes altruistic campaigns, even if he always worries too much about the finances. And the Senate Representative wouldn’t be too difficult to convince, this is good publicity for the current government as well.”

“You’re pretty amazing, you know. If you can do that, I mean. And even if you can’t, it’s not—that’s not what I—”

“I’d say the amazing one here is you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupted. Far from saving Anakin from his misery, however, he only doubled it, as Anakin had never known how to take a compliment. “My team really wants to meet you, actually. I’m afraid I may have boasted that I’ve finally met the source of many-a-rumour Anakin Skywalker, so now they won’t stop pestering me about introducing you to them.”

Despite himself, Anakin laughed. “Well, your department certainly sounds a lot livelier than mine.”

“We’re simply bored so we tend to look for distractions along the way,” Obi-Wan said. “We’re going out for drinks after work this Friday. You should come.”

And Anakin didn’t even think twice before he replied: “I think I will.”

  
  


══════════════════

  
  


The week seemed to drag on, long but not unpleasant. If anything, Anakin had come to enjoy his talks with the Director of PR & Marketing, no matter how unlikely that had seemed at first.

After the unexpectedly personal conversation on Tuesday, Anakin had not had to share anything else that ventured into the private. It appeared that what he’d said had been more than enough for Obi-Wan to generate a vision of the ultimate altruistic campaign. Suddenly, it seemed so very unfounded that Anakin had ever even considered the man would be anything less than perfectly professional. It was clear now—he _was_ the best at what he did. Anakin could hardly imagine that Windu, had he been in Obi-Wan’s shoes, would have dedicated his time speaking to Anakin himself when he could have easily delegated that task to somebody else. But Obi-Wan had decided to do so, because he wanted to be perfect at his job. And that feeling of ambition was one Anakin felt all too familiar with, something he respected strongly when he recognised it in others.

Too soon and yet not fast enough at all, Friday arrived. Anakin had first wondered whether he’d live to see this day at all but now, he realised that perhaps he would miss spending an hour a day just conversing with Obi-Wan about the campaign. That he’d miss those small questions. Such as had he considered any slogan for the series before? Was there any word, colour, or feeling he strongly associated with the protocol droids? Innocent, work-related things and yet, it was so refreshing to finally have someone listen to him. 

Anakin was tired of always fighting to be heard by his boss and colleagues. With some degree of incredulity, he realised that this was the first time anyone in the company had bothered to ask him for his opinion. Not only that but Obi-Wan seemed to have taken the project to heart, to have genuinely understood why all of this was so important to Anakin in the first place.

But that was as far as it went. His mind wasn’t wandering off anywhere dangerous, not with Ahsoka’s words still echoing in the caverns of his brain: _Don’t leap before you look_.

And for once in his life, Anakin had vowed to follow her advice.

At present, Anakin sat in a booth at 79’s. It wasn’t a bar he’d normally choose to go to if he could help it. Instead, he enjoyed places like the Outlander Club, just your typical gay bar in Coruscant, and one could hardly blame him—it had good music, excellent drinks, and even finer visitors. 79’s was, on the other hand, the kind of upscale club where people with big salaries went to flaunt their money. Ironically enough, it was such patrons that made it an infinitely boring place—all they did was sit and drink expensive alcohol, grope even more expensive escorts. If there was ever a place farthest from Anakin’s idea of fun, it would be 79’s.

On either side and opposite him sat some of Obi-Wan’s subordinates from PR & Marketing. Introductions were quick and then everyone seemed to want to ask Anakin _something_.

There was Quinlan, easily the loudest and most verbose of the bunch, cracking jokes left, right, and centre—not at all bothered whether they would land with the rest of the group or not. He looked terribly familiar and Anakin knew he must have seen him around the office before. Next to Quinlan sat Asajj Ventress. Only she seemed to rival that man in chatter, her words accented and tone suggestive as she spoke. Though, for all that Quinlan made Anakin comfortable that he didn't have to do much but listen and laugh, Asajj was a very different case. She wanted to know all about him—what he did in his free time, if he was single, what type he fancied. Anakin drank and tried not to flush every time she looked back at Obi-Wan, meaningfully as if to say: _Are you hearing this_?

Sitting on the other side of the booth, Obi-Wan just smiled quietly, enjoying his Ardees and the spectacle that was his coworkers’ interrogation of poor Anakin.

The last two members of the group were by far Anakin’s favourites. Satine, beautiful and near-regal in the dim light of the bar, seemed to take actual interest in his work, not his lovelife. Together with Luminara, who sat closest to Anakin, the two of them took turns asking about his future projects. Satine also happened to be the most perceptive one whenever he would begin to feel uncomfortable under the barrage of questions streaming from the others. Though she nursed her drinks patiently, she was not afraid to jump in and calm down either Quinlan or Asajj when they became too much. Anakin appreciated it. He’d never really felt all too comfortable in groups of more than three, especially when they all knew each other and the only one Anakin knew was Obi-Wan. And he wasn’t even sure that he knew the man at all, not outside of the patient, ever composed work persona that he never seemed to shed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, honey, but you look far too young for someone who’s made these droids. I was expecting an old crackpot like Yoda,” Asajj said. Anakin hadn’t noticed when exactly but she’d stopped referring to him by name and had instead begun to call him ‘honey’.

“And already the poster boy of the leading tech company in the world,” Quinlan said. “That’s pretty impressive, you know.”

“I just got recruited quite early on.”

“What, like when you were ten or something?”

“Are you certain you’re even allowed to be drinking?” asked Obi-Wan, clearly in jest. It was the first thing he’d said in a while, having preferred to slink back and watch Anakin struggle to survive the Second Inquisition. And it was a good thing Anakin had enough alcohol in him to return the tone.

“I’m twenty-five, you know. Are _you_ sure you’re not just feeling old in comparison?” he quipped back but his smile downplayed the comment.

“I have only about ten years on you.”

“Only?” he repeated. “That’s modest.”

“Yes, _only_. I’m in my mid-thirties, Anakin, not in the fossil display at the Galactic Museum.”

“The Ga—” Anakin chuckled. “Obi-Wan, the Galactic Museum closed down before I was even _born_.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan frowned in realisation that he’d just talked himself into a corner. Acknowledging his defeat, he huffed back a laugh, genuine and earnest.

Kriff, it was such a pretty laugh . . .

“Ben, my friend," Quinlan said, grinning a bit, "I think you’ve finally found yourself a worthy opponent.”

“Hold on, give him a moment,” Satine teased. “He might be gearing up for a comeback.” 

Obi-Wan just shook his head, looking like he was trying to bite back a reply. He relaxed back into his seat, opting to take a sip of his drink instead, but his eyes never left Anakin’s. It was the most curious thing, the way he looked at him then. Anakin felt himself on edge, as if his full attention had suddenly been demanded. It was the intensity of Obi-Wan’s gaze and he immediately recognised it. He’d felt it when he’d headed for the bar that night, headed straight for Obi-Wan like there’d been no one else in the room.

So much for not leaping to conclusions.

Just when he’d been doing so well, surviving the whole week without having any indecent thoughts about that night and this man, there his brain went. Short-circuiting again, apparently. Loose wiring and all that.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Anakin said as he stood to leave the booth.

Only Luminara nodded to him, the others already too enthralled by the story that Quinlan was currently telling. Anakin didn’t know if any of them were smokers but he’d thought it polite to leave an open invitation. Better yet if he went by himself. He needed a minute to cool off. The onset of questions, combined with the drinks and the massed atmosphere in the bar, was doing his head in already. Making him think silly things.

Just outside the door to the smoking area, Anakin felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned.

“Mind if I join you?” Obi-Wan asked with a smile.

Anakin most certainly didn’t, but he knew he should. He’d needed some air—fresh or otherwise—to clear his head _from_ Obi-Wan. Not fill it with even more thoughts of the man.

He shrugged. “As long as you’re not here to tell me all about the health hazards of smoking.”

“Oh, not a chance of that,” the man said and brought a cigarette to his own lips. “Rest assured,” he mumbled around the filter.

_The more you know_.

Anakin chuckled despite himself, caught by surprise. “Right, sorry. Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“I have my bad habits after the second drink.”

“Stars forbid I catch you after the third.”

“Yes, these things tend to run proportionate, I'm afraid,” Obi-Wan mused. “If only it were just smoking, I’d be plenty sound.”

“Mmm, what else then? Picking up strangers at bars?” Anakin asked and mentally kicked himself. They had successfully managed to avoid mentioning _that_ until now. _Are we really going there, brain?_

“Oh no, I think that time was rather the other way around.”

Anakin wanted to object but if they had to be perfectly honest, he could somewhat remember approaching Obi-Wan first. He couldn’t recall what he’d said to him, only that Obi-Wan had laughed. And then he’d smiled and there had been something so inviting in his gaze.

Anakin had been drunk, of course, but he hadn’t been wasted by any means. Though he enjoyed a drink or two to push away the clutter in his mind, there was nothing he disliked more than a complete loss of brain function. The days of excessive drinking had long since been forgotten, now just a memory from his first year at university. That night, he’d certainly been sober enough to remember what had happened and to enjoy every bit of it. He remembered Obi-Wan’s deep, if slightly amused, voice as Anakin had suggested they leave. The patient, unhurried way he’d kissed him as they’d settled in the back of the hovercab, the lights from the highway traffic smearing and streaking around them. The gentle but steady grip on Anakin’s back as they’d held onto each other in the elevator. And inside Obi-Wan’s flat, that low groan as Anakin had taken him between his lips, guided him to the back of his throat. The whisper against Anakin’s ear as he’d asked if he could— 

“—borrow your lighter?” Obi-Wan said then, ripping him out of his thoughts and grounding him back in the present. Anakin realised he hadn’t spoken in a while. “I’m afraid I’ve left mine with my other coat.”

Wordlessly, Anakin offered it to him.

“A podracing fan?” the man mused, looking at the emblem on the lighter.

“Don’t judge. You’ve got your bad habits and I’ve got mine.”

In response, Obi-Wan just hummed. Daring himself, Anakin turned to study him, praying that the mand hadn't somehow guessed his thoughts or seen the blush that was more than likely creeping up his cheeks. But there was only the same old hint of amusement on Obi-Wan’s face as he cupped his hand to light the cigarette. He wasn’t even looking Anakin’s way.

For a brief moment, the flame illuminated his face and danced across his skin. Anakin’s gaze slid to his neck. He could tell when the smoke blazed through Obi-Wan’s throat and left a trail of that pleasant burn in its wake.

“Your coworkers remind me of my university friends,” Anakin began, grasping for something to say. “Maybe a bit loud but in a good way.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “We’re always working together so I tend to forget that they can be a bit much at times. I must apologise for all their questions but truth be told, they wouldn't be asking if they didn't appreciate your company. They like you a lot.”

“That's a first,” Anakin admitted. “People at the office don’t usually like me.”

He took a cigarette to his lips and even before he’d lit it, he was already drawing breath from around the filter. He was too eager for the smoke. Too eager to hide his thoughts behind a pillar of flumes. Better eager for this than for any of the things from that night, Anakin thought with some embarrassment.

“If this isn’t too forward of me to ask.” _Wait, could he be_ . . . “What’s with all the rumours?”

_Oh_.

Anakin sighed around the familiar taste of his Luckies. He knew what people said about him. Notorious glare. Penchant for disregarding rules. Always had something to say.

“They’re just the truth,” he said. “Come on, you must know that by now.”

“You’re nice enough with me.”

“Yes, well, that’s because you make it easy for people to be nice with you,” Anakin replied. “I can’t really say Windu’s ever bothered to ask why I’m always fighting people’s suggestions to make a military unit. Or why I care so much that Threepio's etiquette setting is perfect or that his communication system supports almost every language in the world.”

Obi-Wan was smiling at him with the patience of a saint. “That’s precisely why I think the rumours are not true at all.”

“You’re just too polite to think badly of anyone.”

“On the contrary, Anakin, I must admit when I first heard about you, I figured I would probably not like you much. Even when I saw you in your workshop, I underestimated you. I didn’t think someone who looks like they just graduated university could be behind the protocol droids.” Obi-Wan looked at him apologetically. “It appears I was wrong in every way.”

“It happens a lot more often than you’d think.”

“But—”

“ _But_ if it’ll make you feel better, you can apologise,” he said recklessly, “by offering to buy me a drink.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement. “Tihaar? Or perhaps Twi'lek liquor?”

“Just Ardees’ fine.”

“Come now, Ardees is for the uninspired.” And there was a note of something playful in his voice. “It’s for when people like to think themselves above a good, trendy drink. They preach authenticity and the simple draft but they inevitably end up sounding quite pretentious, don’t you think?”

“Pretentious,” Anakin repeated. He tried to hold back a laugh at how frank Obi-Wan had become after just a few drinks. “Are you speaking from experience, what with all the pints of Ardees you’ve had so far?”

The man smiled like he’d planned to get caught and didn’t deign to answer. Anakin had noticed that he seemed to do that a lot—he always said something and then waited to see if anyone had paid close attention, if anyone would disagree. He seemed positively delighted every time Anakin called his words into question.

“Okay, okay. You pick something then, seeing as you’re an expert,” Anakin ventured. “Just not that blue thing you were drinking last time. Absolutely disgusting.”

Not that Anakin had tried it himself, of course. But it had been on Obi-Wan’s breath, its taste on his lips, his tongue. And it had stung Anakin as he’d kissed him, but he hadn’t stopped, hadn’t wanted to stop.

“Well, I’m sure I know of something or other that you’d like.” 

“Such as?”

There it was again. That look, all barely contained intensity and fire. “Oh, you’d just have to trust me and find out.”

And oh dear, the way he said that—it almost sounded like there was a double meaning there, an innuendo. Like he was _interested_. The two shared a knowing look and Anakin flushed, despite himself. The smoke was pretty on Obi-Wan’s lips when he exhaled, his chin drawn up so as to blow the flumes away from his companion.

“Drinks aside, I am very serious. It’s a downright shame that people would believe such baseless rumours,” said Obi-Wan. “I don’t know if you realise, Anakin, but you are frightfully brilliant and I am certain that you’ll get to do great things. Don't ever let anyone make you think otherwise.”

Anakin didn’t answer and chose to take a long drag from his cigarette. He knew that if he wanted to chase this moment, he should do it now. But instead, he let it pass silently between them. Because in the short passage of time between one breath and the other, he had seen Obi-Wan in the soft focus of a new sensation that had begun to burn in his chest. Had realised that he’d leapt towards his ultimate demise without even bothering to look whether the other man was there to catch him. And he was falling.

Falling for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

  
  


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“What have you done this time?” Ahsoka asked as they queued for a cup of freshly brewed Spiran caf.

Anakin frowned. “I just wanted to see you.”

“Anakin, it’s early on a Saturday morning and you’ve been blowing up my phone all night. Besides, you look like you haven’t slept at all.” She gave him a pointed look. Like a mother reproaching her child, even though she was technically two years his junior. “So I repeat, what have you done?”

He sighed. “The guy from work—”

“Mister Eleven-out-of-ten? Again?” Ahsoka laughed. “I thought it was universally acknowledged to never kriff the same one-night stand twice.”

“No, I haven’t slept with him since. That’s not the problem.”

“Skyguy, I’m honestly not sure _what_ kind of a problem warrants twelve voice messages.”

“Did you listen to them?”

Ahsoka looked at him oddly. “Of course I didn’t. Are you crazy? I didn’t even have time to search for a matching pair of socks before I ran to yours. Now speak.”

Only that the words didn’t come right away.

It wasn’t that he had a hard time opening up to Ahsoka, far from it. He could tell her anything, no matter how small or stupid, no matter whether it was a stray thought he couldn’t even be bothered to finish. It was the way they had always been, ever since university—the two odd kids that were much younger than everyone else, not even old enough to drink yet even if they had. Anakin had landed himself a contract for JEDI Tech as soon as he’d graduated and Ahsoka had gone on to do a PhD. She was a bit of a genius, certainly more so than him—especially when it came to emotional intelligence, of which he seemed to possess not a single ounce.

And so sensing his distress, Ahsoka didn’t press for him to continue, simply waited for the words to come to him. They would, she probably knew, but they often took their time. Today especially. It had been a long night of trying to fall asleep and failing under the weight of his thoughts.

It wasn’t until they’d both received their steamy cups of caf and headed for the nearby park that Anakin felt himself capable enough of talking. 

“I think I like him,” he said finally. “He’s all I can think about and it’s distracting. It's not even that I'm thinking about that night. It can be anything. Something he said, something he laughed about. It's like . . . ” He paused. “Like when we had that biomech presentation in third year but you could barely focus on anything cause Rex was in our group. That kind of I-like-him.”

Ahsoka had slowed down her pace to a point where she wasn’t even walking, having instead come to a stop by the park’s man-made pond. “Anakin, what the actual _kriff_? Are you serious?”

His silence seemed to be an answer in itself.

“I distinctly remember telling you not to leap before you look,” Ahsoka said, “and what do you do? Fall in love. With your one-night stand.”

“I can explain,” he began weakly.

“It’s been _one_ week, Anakin. Five days even!”

“Listen—” 

“Oh, I’m listening. I just can’t wait to hear what you were thinking.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I planned for this to happen, Snips. It’s just that no one’s really cared what I’m doing or much less why I’m doing it for a while now and suddenly, there’s Obi-Wan—”

“Okay, that’s a cute name.”

_It is. But that’s not the point._ “As I was saying, there’s Obi-Wan and he seems to genuinely care. I assumed it’s just his job, you know, but it got to me. It feels so good to have someone actually be nice to me for a change and I just didn’t expect it, Ahsoka. There was never a moment where I thought I should brace myself in case I catch feelings.”

When he looked her way, Ahsoka was watching him with a sympathetic expression. “I see.”

“You see what exactly?”

“It’s been a few years since Padmé, you know.”

He frowned deeply. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Of course it does! Look, one-night stands are convenient but maybe it’s not so bad to finally move on and allow yourself to want something more.”

She said it in such a gentle way but it still hit Anakin like the initial acceleration of a speeder going full-power. Of course, it didn’t take much for one to figure out that sex had been just another coping mechanism for Anakin. He’d loved Padmé so much that it had hurt him in the end, when he’d wanted to take a chance together and she hadn’t. They’d been young, of course, and he’d been very foolish when he’d been young. But in almost every way, he was still the same brand of foolish where it mattered. He still felt things too strongly and he’d always attached himself to people too fast, too recklessly, too deep. Always obsessing over everyone he met.

Ahsoka was right: one-night stands were easy. But they were easy precisely because he never allowed himself names or any other details that could take root in his brain and fester. It was always just once and never again. And for all the misery it caused him, it had still been good enough for him.

“I’m not saying this is ideal,” she continued. “He’s still a one-night stand and maybe that’s all it’s going to be. I don’t know. Has he shown he’s interested?”

“Sometimes I get the feeling he is.” And it was true. Last night, Obi-Wan had most definitely seemed interested. “He’s far too nice to me. Always says the right thing. And there’s this . . . _look_? I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just—I know that look. But he can also be so hard to read. I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.”

“Well, I say you should just talk to him.”

“Any other ideas?”

If looks could kill, the one Ahsoka shot him could have sent even a ghost back to their grave. “This isn’t some dumb college drama anymore! You’re an adult and if you know what you want, then you should say it.”

“If that means making a fool out of myself again, I’d rather just . . . you know, _not_.”

“Skyguy, we’re all fools when it comes to matters of the heart,” Ahsoka said. “If you’re both just waiting for the other to approach you first, you’d be waiting forever. And that’s sad. Don’t you want to know? Save yourself the misery?”

“If it’s a choice between the misery of waiting and that of being rejected again? I think you know which one I’ll take.”

“Anakin, you say that but you’ve never in your life chosen to wait for anything. You always go for it without a second thought.”

“Don’t leap before you look,” he threw the words back at her. “You said so, didn’t you?”

“I think it might be too late for that now.”

“It’s not. He doesn’t know how I feel yet.”

“But that’s not what I meant.”

Ahsoka didn’t push further when he didn’t reply, perhaps realising that any attempts to reason with him now would bring them nothing. He was stubborn to a fault when he wanted to be, no matter whether he knew he was right or wrong. But that was the thing. You learned to look away from your flaws until they’d brought you to a checkmate.

Besides, it wouldn't matter anymore when he went to work on Monday. With the week now over, they were free to go about their other work arrangements, weren't they? Back to how things were.

Some part of Anakin preferred it that way—it was the part of him that assured his heart it was for the best if things returned to the way they had been, but the other, the desperately foolish and still every bit hopeful part of him, wished this was not goodbye. So when Obi-Wan came knocking on his workshop door that Monday, his trademark smile on full display as if nothing had changed at all, Anakin rejoiced and anguished all the same.

“Come on,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin stared at him. “Come on what?”

“Not what— _where_. We’re going for lunch downtown.”

“I have . . . work.”

Obi-Wan smiled like he’d just caught him lying through his teeth. “We all have work, Anakin. What you have is a bad habit of working through all your breaks. Now grab your coat and follow me.”

Anakin complied numbly, startled as he was by the suddenness of it all. And he was still so very startled every time, every day when Obi-Wan came to get him for a quick lunch, a caf break, a smoke. When he texted him with a funny joke Quinlan had said. When they bumped into each other by accident, on the way to one meeting or another. It was as if the universe was reminding them of each other’s existence at every chance that presented itself. Like Anakin could ever forget. Even the little things seemed to make his poor heart race and pound. 

But still, he could say nothing. Not that week, nor the next. Anakin wanted to speak his mind but it never felt right, the words heavy on his conscience but heavier still on his tongue. He knew that it would only ever get more difficult as time passed. Already, it was so hard to imagine what would happen if Obi-Wan rejected him.

No. That wasn’t quite right. He _could_ imagine, and that was what made this so impossible. Because what he imagined was not pretty at all.

Just as when he’d convinced himself that Padmé had loved him back. That she’d loved him enough to take a chance with him, even if he was just her childhood best friend. Poor little Ani, right? So infatuated, so childish in his love, in the intensity of his feelings, that she’d never considered the possibility that he could have been serious at all. Perhaps she’d thought that even if he’d been genuine, he’d forget about her soon enough. But what had she known about being in love with someone your entire life? Never knowing anyone else, never looking at another. Burning in silence for ten years . . .

Needless to say, Anakin had given up on such feelings after Padmé, so devastating had her rejection been. Love like that could only hurt him, he knew now—no, he’d convinced himself since. It had been a silly little infatuation. And he seemed particularly susceptible to such little infatuations, which came and went like his thoughts, like those blaster bolts from the action holos, aimed in every direction. And him, always in danger of getting hit by any one of them.

After Padmé, he’d quickly come to realise that one-night stands were much more convenient. It was the kind of wild rush that calmed him. The whir of alcohol and fast decisions that seemed to make the world pick up its pace around him, things finally happening fast enough that his brain was stimulated. Of course, he’d had to learn a thing or two along the way. Like how women didn’t interest him anymore, not the way Padmé had, only men. He’d taught himself to tell apart those who were simply ‘curious’ from those who knew what they wanted. He’d learned that there were straight men who’d lay with him but only on their terms. And those terms were never meant for his pleasure, only their own. They’d want to see him gag on their cock, but they’d never open their mouths for him. They’d fuck him but never spread their legs _for him_. He’d learned there were those who would regret having brought a man to their bed. Learned to wake up before they did, preferring to sneak back home before any awkwardness over breakfasts or coffee could ensue.

And all of that, usually taught to him through the practice of unpleasant experiences, had still been easier than learning to love again. He’d had his system of quick encounters worked out and perfected. The fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi had somehow managed to slip through its cracks was unexpected. Troubling.

Anakin Skywalker was not a coward and he was certainly not known for his patience. But this kind of waiting, it had nothing to do with either.

It was not that he lacked bravery. It was not that he preferred to wait. But when every step towards your future was haunted by your past, it immobilised you. He could risk it all and speak, but he knew that the words would not come. Because he’d heard it all before.

_Oh, Ani, you misunderstand. You know how much you mean to me but I’ve never. . . I’m sorry, I don’t see you that way. You’re my friend, Ani, but not like this. Nothing more._

He knew what he would hear this time too.

_Anakin, you misunderstand. It was just for one night. Nothing more._

And honestly, Anakin reckoned he would have deserved that because it was how he’d wanted it to be. It was easy to be part of someone’s life for a few hours. But to be the reason why they smiled and laughed, and loved? His heart constricted in his chest, heavy with the knowledge that he’d never be someone’s reason. Just the shadow of regret they picked up for the night. 

  
  


══════════════════

  
  


Today, as had become customary with the 3PO-series launch just two months away, Anakin was running systems tests again. Some twenty floors above him, Obi-Wan Kenobi was also working, tireless and determined as always.

It was past regular office time and Anakin's coworkers had all gone home, the place now pleasantly empty. He liked these small hours best. They were filled with quiet and peace. It almost didn’t feel like he was working, just puttering about with the latest fixation that he’d taken on as his personal project. Besides, there was something about the darkness outside that helped him focus only on the parts of his desk that were directly lit. He’d always struggled with keeping his attention on one thing at a time—unless he was hyperfocusing, which was an unreliable state of mental clarity that never came at the right time—and so it helped to direct his focus through the contrast in light. It was a sort of vision tunneling method, he supposed.

Anakin saw the icon of their company’s messaging platform flicker at the bottom of his screen. _Please let it not be a message from Windu_ , he begged silently. His boss had taken to sending in heaps of testing requests—meaning orders—and Anakin wasn’t entirely sure he could handle another one after spending the whole day resolving about thirty of them.

> **Obi-Wan K.** _About to order takeaway from Dex’s. Want anything?_

He smiled at his screen. His body did that odd thing again where he felt a strong, sudden flash of warmth in the pit of his stomach at seeing Obi-Wan’s name. It was a mixture of anxiety, apprehension, but above all else . . . an overwhelming feeling of longing. To hear from him, to see him again.

> **Anakin S.** _vorzyd slider with kibi strips please_
> 
> **Obi-Wan K.** _How predictable_
> 
> **Anakin S.** _you know me too well_  
>  **Anakin S.** _and thanks_  
>  **Anakin S.** _i owe you one :)_
> 
> **Obi-Wan K.** _I say we’re even after the noodle fiasco_  
>  **Obi-Wan K.** _See you at the shop_

It had become somewhat of a routine shared between them, to have dinner together in the office on the nights that they both stayed late. They’d forgone lunch as Anakin had shifted his hours to work when the floor was less busy, with these dinners and the occasional smoke break now the only times they spent together. More often than not, it was Obi-Wan that wound up in Anakin’s shop, not the other way around. There was something about the workshop that they both liked, it seemed. Obi-Wan had many a time shared how pleasantly remote it felt in comparison to the bustling floor where the PR & Marketing division resided.

Anakin would never admit it but he lived for those few hours, where he felt at peace with Obi-Wan. At home.

He was still smiling when Obi-Wan entered the workshop, Anakin having purposefully left its door ajar in anticipation for his arrival.

“I’m beginning to think you live here.”

“Just recently moved in,” Anakin returned the jest. “The rent is cheap.”

Of course, Obi-Wan was being entirely serious underneath that layer of easy humour, cushioning his words but expecting that he be given answers all the same. And when Anakin tried to sidetrack the actual issue, Obi-Wan just pushed back more firmly: “What time did you even go home last night?”

“Don’t remember but pretty sure it was this morning.”

Obi-Wan nodded emphatically. “Explains why I saw you when I was coming to work. I tried to say hello.”

“Sorry, I must have not seen you.”

“You looked tired.”

He _felt_ tired. But they all did, everyone crunching now that the end was in sight and drawing near a little too fast. He supposed some departments had it worse than others. It seemed PR & Marketing was in the heat of preparations, doing last checks on the promotion material, launch-event plannings, and a myriad of other things that Obi-Wan had likely mentioned in that passing way of his, as though he didn’t want to bother Anakin with any unnecessary details. Of course, Anakin always asked when he thought Obi-Wan was holding back, and the latter always smiled.

Obi-Wan set the takeaway on the workbench. “How are you getting on?”

“Not bad. Could’ve been better if I didn’t have to spend half the day hiding from HR.”

“Are they terrorising you with the Founder’s Party too?”

Anakin actually rolled his eyes, something he’d long since fallen out of the habit of doing. “Yes! I’ve always hated those,” he grumbled. “Apparently I’m required to go this time around, with the Threepio launch and all.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “Might not be so bad this year. You can join us over at Marketing. I’m sure we can entertain you better than Palpatine.”

The two exchanged a look and laughed. Anything was better than listening to Palpatine’s long and drawn-out speeches. They always became a source of muttered chatter and mockery amongst employees at company parties.

“We can take a drink every time he mentions ‘power’,” Anakin offered and began unwrapping their takeaway.

Unexpectedly, Obi-Wan cleared his throat and in his best impersonation of the CEO, declared: “ _Power to the corporation!”_

“ _Unlimited power!”_ Anakin followed suit.

“ _Capitalism!”_

“Arr!”

They fell about with joint laughter, Obi-Wan in that subdued way he had about everything and Anakin sharply, eagerly, without a thought to hold back.

As they sat to eat, Obi-Wan was talking about the food and his old friend Dex. Anakin lapsed into silence, only humming agreements here and there. He reckoned it was probably unusual, Anakin not talking, but it was just so pleasant, so comfortable that he needn’t say anything. And though it was perfectly innocent, it also felt very domestic in a way. Spending time with Obi-Wan always made him feel like that, somehow. He couldn’t help himself. And he always thought about wanting more. 

Which inevitably meant that he thought about Ahsoka’s advice. He knew he should ask but stars, it had been weeks. If he spoke now, he was just risking to shatter their newly found friendship, wasn’t he? 

“—I can safely say that Nabooian seafood just isn’t for me. I think I should have gone for the Endorian—”

And what could he possibly ask him anyway?

“—I reckon even that yobshrimp noodle salad we had would have been better.”

“I agree,” Anakin said absent-mindedly.

_Obi-Wan, are you interested?_

“Do you now?” Obi-Wan replied curiously but Anakin wasn’t really listening. “And I assume you’re also every bit thrilled to be attending the Party next week?”

“ _Uh-huh_.”

_Obi-Wan, what if I asked you to go on a date with me?_

“And you’re personally going to nominate Windu for Director-of-the-Year?”

“Yes, of course.”

Obi-Wan sighed, then waved a hand in front of him. “Anakin.”

“What?”

“You’re not listening at all and you look even more tired than you did ten minutes ago,” he observed. “I don’t know how that’s possible.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. It’s just . . . I worry. You’ve been working yourself too hard.”

“That’s not it. There’s a lot of work, yes, but there always is.” Anakin shook his head. “Besides, I could say the same about you. You’re always here on the nights I am, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

But Obi-Wan wasn’t taking the bait. “Then what is it?” 

Indeed.

It was a myriad of things. It was Anakin desperately clinging to any and every moment and bit of attention that Obi-Wan could spare him. It was coming to know all of his favourite books and holos, and bands. Pouring over them in his free time so he could know them too, like the fool he was. It was their friendship, which felt so precious. And yet, it was also wanting more, craving Obi-Wan’s gaze like it was a second sun, longing for his presence when it wasn’t there, mistaking his voice and laughter everywhere he went.

It was everything and nothing.

“I’ll tell you,” Anakin vowed, “but not right now. Later.”

Later, when he’d built up enough courage. Later, if at all such fortitude were to ever come upon him.

Obi-Wan looked at him curiously but didn’t press for more. “Okay then. Take your time.”

Usually, after they’d finished their food, Obi-Wan would stay for a bit and quietly watch Anakin run his tests on 3PO. Sometimes, he’d even bring his datapad with him so they’d stay together longer, working in quiet but infinitely pleasant companionship. If Anakin glanced at him too often and could barely focus on his tasks at all, that was his secret to keep. And if Obi-Wan caught him looking his way every other time and in response smiled a little too widely, that went unspoken of. 

Tonight was no exception, though both of them had far too much work for the usual horseplay. Obi-Wan took his datapad and began reading a report of sorts. He looked tired but his concentration was unyielding and Anakin could only marvel at how quickly he could go from joking and messing about to the perfectly composed Director Kenobi.

As he read, Obi-Wan inattentively ate away from a pack of sunberries he’d brought with him as an after-snack. Feeling childish, Anakin reached out and stole a few, waiting for a reaction. The man didn’t even glance up from his report, simply pushed the container closer to Anakin.

And there it was again, this ease with which Obi-Wan seemed to accommodate Anakin, to make room for him in even the smallest of ways. Unassuming and so simple to him perhaps, but completely unfamiliar to Anakin. If only he wasn’t so perfect, then maybe Anakin wouldn’t be struggling to keep himself in check every kriffing minute.

Obi-Wan went for another sunberry, but Anakin deftly moved the pack and he ended up scooping only air. He tried again. And again, Anakin moved it. With a frown, the man glanced up.

“Anakin!”

The boy in question smiled innocently and folded his hands on the table. “Sorry, you just seemed so concentrated.”

“And you decided that the logical thing to do was to distract me?”

“Naturally.”

“You’re a hazard,” Obi-Wan declared and went back to his sunberries, shaking his head. Anakin could hardly miss that amused smile he was trying—and failing—to hide.

“The good kind?”

The man snorted. “What do _you_ think?”

“I think that you don’t mind it either way.”

“Well, I can’t say I do,” Obi-Wan answered fondly. “Not at all.”

_But would you mind it_ , Anakin thought, _if you knew that while you sit there and think of me as your friend, I dream of you and yearn that you’d want to touch me like you did that night a month ago?_ Would he be repulsed? Would he just laugh it off and think Anakin was simply pulling his leg?

Or, even if there was a one-in-a-million chance, would he respond in kind?

And suddenly, Anakin found himself already speaking, before his mind could have a chance to stop him again: “Obi-Wan, can I ask you something?”

“Aren't you asking already?” his friend said while continuing to read.

“No, I’m serious. It’s kind of personal.”

Finally, Obi-Wan directed his full attention to him. He put the datapad down and leaned back into the chair, crossed his leg in front of the other. 

“Anakin, what’s the matter with you? Just ask away.”

But that was the difficult part, wasn't it? The part that mattered. Anakin swallowed around his reluctance to continue. Around the voice that told him this was a bad idea. He had none better.

“That night . . .” he began with no small uncertainty, pretending to be engrossed by a sunberry so he’d not have to meet Obi-Wan’s clever eyes. He looked up anyway, unable to help himself. “Do you regret what happened between us?”

If Obi-Wan was surprised, he controlled it well. There wasn’t a moment of weakness in his perfectly collected expression, not a shadow of confusion to indicate that his composure had slipped. If anything, there was only kindness in his gaze as he looked back at Anakin. But was kindness going to be enough? Padmé, too, had been kind when she’d rejected him.

“I regret nothing about it,” Obi-Wan said and there wasn’t an ounce of doubt in his tone. “Surely, you must know that already. I feel I’ve been quite transparent about what I think of you.”

“As Windu said, understanding subtlety isn’t really something I’m good at.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

Anakin frowned. “Then why bother?”

“What?”

“Why bother being subtle in the first place?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Anakin, I think we’ve started this conversation from the middle. At least let me catch up.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it's just that . . . You’ve made it very clear to me from the start that you wanted to put what happened behind us. What point is there to bring this up now?”

“You mean that day Windu brought you to the workshop? I didn’t know how to respond when I saw you. I _panicked_. And the way you reacted . . .” Anakin trailed off, searching for words. “It was like this whole thing was just another typical day in the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

“Come now, no need to be absurd.”

“But you weren’t even fazed, Obi-Wan! If anything, you looked amused. Like none of this could ever bother you,” Anakin replied. “What else should I have said? I was trying not to make a complete laserbrain out of myself!”

“I’m not calling into question your reaction, Anakin. I’m asking why you’re bringing this up _now_.”

Because he should have brought it up weeks ago but he’d kept finding excuses not to. Because it was the easiest way to start this conversation without putting their friendship at risk over an unwanted proposition. Because Anakin had always been backwards about these things—rushing blindly when he should be patient and taking too long where it mattered that he went in before it was too late. But most of all—

“Because I can’t bring myself to forget it! And I really hope that you haven’t been able to either,” Anakin said, looking away. He couldn’t meet Obi-Wan’s eyes after all. “So please tell me I’m not the only one who's still so hung up on that night. I can’t stop thinking about it. About _you_. You’re everywhere in my mind.”

Silence stretched and in it, he could have sworn that he heard Obi-Wan’s breath hitch a bit. Just the simplest break in breathing, a crack in the man’s composure. If Anakin looked up, would he see surprise? Would he finally see what Obi-Wan looked like beneath that mask of perfect composure? Or would he see something he didn’t like?

“And what about me?” 

His voice was so close when it finally came that Anakin had to look up. Obi-Wan was leaning towards him, closer now, almost as though he was precipitating that Anakin was about to divulge a secret. What secret? Everything was so profoundly obvious now that they were this close. It was all starting to make sense—

“Everything,” Anakin said. “Everything about you.”

Drawn in as if by a force stronger than gravity itself, Anakin leaned in too. He couldn’t look away from Obi-Wan’s lips, spellbound by how they seemed to want to welcome him. To call for his own. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Did he? They’d have to spend an eternity if they were to wait for Anakin to finish listing all of his favourite things about Obi-Wan. And frankly, Ahsoka had been right all along: Anakin had never been good at waiting.

“It might be easier to show you.”

Anakin watched Obi-Wan’s lips shape a smile. And oh, how he knew that smile.

The kiss began as tender as a whisper. It was the softest thing, the barest of a brush. Perhaps Obi-Wan was expecting him to pull away, to claim it was a mistake. A momentary lapse of judgement. Anakin would not. But he was certainly expecting this to turn out a mere dream. And as all good dreams end, so would this. He felt the first crack in their perfect moment appear when he leaned in to deepen the kiss but in return, Obi-Wan did not. That softness in Obi-Wan, it wasn’t subdued passion, he realised. It was reluctance and caution, almost as if he was holding back.

“I thought you wanted this too,” Anakin said desperately against Obi-Wan’s lips, pulling away. Perhaps it _had_ been a mistake. “This was a bad idea. I’m sorry—”

His reaction seemed to finally elicit a response in Obi-Wan, to help him find his resolve. He beckoned Anakin forward with just a look and claimed his lips, this time with certainty. Finally, _finally_ , Anakin felt the man sink into the dance of their lips. And the intensity, the determination behind the kiss was startling. As if Obi-Wan wanted to apologise for making Anakin doubt this. But there was nothing to forgive, nothing to say, the press of their lips all they needed.

The delicious tang of sunberry on Obi-Wan’s tongue tasted so sweet, so sour. So perfect as Anakin chased it, feeling himself eager and greedy to push for it, for more. And Obi-Wan let him, let the kiss deepen. Something akin to a sigh escaped him and Anakin gave chase to the sound, the warmth, the heat of it. It was desperate. It was delirious, both of them seeking that rising, sinking, overwhelming flight of sensation. 

Anakin felt that he was standing up, bent forward over the table, and Obi-Wan was pulling him down with just a hand to the back of his neck to guide him. Sparks and fire danced where his fingers were. Anakin himself had placed his hands flat on the desk, trying to find support as Obi-Wan tugged at him, took him deeper with his tongue.

Then, Obi-Wan was pulling back for air, gasping for it. The cold absence of his lips felt jarring.

“Anakin.”

“ _Mmm_ ,” he managed, completely breathless.

Obi-Wan chuckled but he was much too winded for that, the sound a wheeze instead. “Not a man of many words?”

_You take them all away._

In response, Anakin kissed below his jaw and down his neck, Obi-Wan’s beard an infuriating pleasure to his skin. 

“Hold on, Anakin—oh, blazes! Before we continue this—”

“Would you _want_ to continue this?” Anakin asked, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Obi-Wan swallowed around another small noise that threatened to escape him. “Oh, yes, I’d very much want to—but Anakin, I need to know something first.”

“Kriff, Obi-Wan, then ask already so we can get back to what we were doing just now.”

“That’s . . . Well. That’s what I want to know. What _were_ we doing just now?” Obi-Wan asked and pulled back, withdrawing from Anakin’s touch. “What do you want this to be exactly?”

Anakin blanched slightly at the question that he'd not expected. In hindsight, he should have known it was coming. But at present, he was caught unprepared for it, or rather—unprepared to answer it. He scrambled for words in somewhat of a panic. Not for the words he wanted to say, but the words that were safe to say. He didn’t want to speak what was on his mind, afraid that Obi-Wan, like Padmé, would say Anakin had the wrong impression, that he wanted too much. He didn’t want to hear those words again.

_Nothing more._

“I want you.” _Just don’t ask me how, don’t make me say it._ “Do we have to decide right now? Can’t we just see where this goes?”

There was a pause in which Anakin saw Obi-Wan’s mouth twist into a frown. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” Obi-Wan said then. For the first time since they’d met, he seemed upset. “Another quick shag, Anakin? Is that what you wanted?”

_What?_

“No!”

“I don't know what impression I've given you of myself but I don’t do casual. That time was an exception and I certainly don’t see any reason to make another just because I have suddenly become convenient for you.”

“Convenient?” The younger man frowned, growing agitated. “ _Convenient?_ That's not true at all!”

“Isn’t it?”

“Kriff, Obi-Wan! I know we didn't meet under the best circumstances but really?” Anakin felt himself close to shaking. “Who do you take me for? I don't—I'm not someone who would cozy up to you just so I could take you to bed. I would never _use_ you like that! You or anyone else!”

“No, that's right, you would sleep with me but only if we could forget about it the next day. You’re young, Anakin, but I’m not. I’ve seen this all before.” Obi-Wan smiled but there was no humour in his expression. “I know it doesn't mean anything to you. But it does to me. There’s probably been more men in your bed this month alone than in mine for years.”

Anakin bristled at the accusations. The more Obi-Wan pushed him, the more he seemed to close off. “You know what, if you really think that, then I regret I ever even brought this up.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.”

“Well, excuse me if I wanted to—”

“Wanted to what? Go for another night?” Obi-Wan snapped. “Well, my answer is no. Now, instead of insulting my feelings further, why don’t you try the bar again? It's what you do, isn't it?”

The words felt like a slap.

It hurt. It hurt so kriffing much but was it not true? Yes, a month ago, Anakin had slept with him because it hadn't meant anything. Because Obi-Wan had been a handsome man at a bar and he'd wanted him just how he'd wanted all the handsome men he'd met at bars before. It was what he did, yes. He’d been hopping from bed to bed for the last few years, it was true. But he wanted to change. Ever since he'd met Obi-Wan, had gotten to know him, he'd wanted to put that behind him. Was it really not enough? Was this what he got for trying?

“Do you think so little of me?”

And something in his voice must have cracked because Obi-Wan looked up at him sharply. The man made to say something, then closed his mouth. Finally, he stood up. 

“For both your sake and mine, we should end this conversation here.”

“Like that?” Anakin said in disbelief. “You’re just leaving after—”

Obi-Wan held up a hand to stop him. “It’s clear to me that I’ve been under the wrong impression and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry, Anakin.”

Anakin didn’t chase after him when he left, though he knew he’d later come to regret not trying. But he didn’t have the words. And so he sat back in his chair, feeling winded from Obi-Wan’s words, feeling himself close to breaking down under the burden of unshed tears.

  
  


══════════════════

  
  


_What do you want this to be_ , Obi-Wan had asked him.

But this wasn’t the question that needed answering. Perhaps on the surface but beyond it was the question of what Anakin was prepared to want, what he was prepared to fight for. _That_ , Anakin had failed to answer. In trying to protect himself from rejection, he'd pushed Obi-Wan away. He'd not only hurt himself but he'd also hurt the one person he'd wanted to be better for. And he had to fix it. No, it wasn’t easy being in love after so long. No, it wasn’t easy being in love with Obi-Wan, who was charming and clever, and everything that Anakin could ever want anyone to be. It wasn’t easy, not least of all because Anakin had grown so comfortable with being on his own that it scared him to bare his heart to anyone. To admit to the fears that he’d spent the last few years trying to bury. But easy or not, it was time he did so anyway.

On Saturday, Anakin called and called, being sent straight to voicemail every time. And if he despaired a little and invited Ahsoka over just so they could marathon a bunch of krimiholos, that was okay. There was always tomorrow.

On Sunday, Anakin texted and when he received no reply, not to the first message nor to the fifth, he seethed in misery. But that was okay too. Tomorrow, he’d go see Obi-Wan in person.

After all, Anakin Skywalker was no quitter.

On Monday, he headed to the Marketing department with a determination that surprised even himself. The plan was simple. He would ask Obi-Wan for a caf or a quick bite somewhere, perfectly innocent. A chance to explain himself. Except—

“Oh honey, Quin dragged him out to lunch,” Asajj Ventress supplied. “Though you know what’s interesting?”

“What?”

She tucked a finger underneath her chin, elegant and graceful—and not to mention completely unnerving—in the way she studied him for a long moment. Suddenly, Anakin felt like he was being interrogated soundlessly. He wished he’d had the sense not to ask.

“For one, he’s been sulking all day and that man _never_ sulks. For another, we’ve been graced with your presence here today, which is about as rare a sight as Aayla finishing a newsletter on time—”

“Five more minutes!” a young woman at the far end of the room exclaimed and began tapping about her screen with vigour.

Asajj pointedly ignored her. “Well, honey? Should we really continue pretending I haven’t put two and two together?”

Anakin sighed. The last thing he needed was this dangerously clever woman goading him into admitting something that he’d regret later. Almost as if reading his thoughts, she smiled, a knowing edge to her lips.

“Look, sweet thing, I happen to like you. I also happen to like how Obi-Wan’s been generously lenient with skimming our end-of-the-day reports just so he can take your clueless tush out for dinner.” The other woman in the room, Aayla, stopped working and her eyes flickered to Anakin curiously. “Now, I don’t know why he’s sulking or why you look like a loth-cat got your tongue _but_ I do know that he can be many things— _Aayla_!” _Tap_ , _tap_ , _tap_. “As I was saying, many things but resentful is not one of them. Just give him a few days.”

“Right, well, thanks for the advice?” _That I totally asked for_.

“My pleasure.” She looked visibly smug. “Should I tell him you stopped by?”

Anakin shrugged, suspecting that she would either way.

On Tuesday, it was already time for the Founder’s Party. Anakin still hadn’t found the right opportunity and Obi-Wan hadn’t found the need for him, if his continued silence and avoidance were anything to go by. But none of that would deter Anakin from trying to speak to him. And he’d keep trying until Obi-Wan listened.

Anakin arrived at the venue late, though that was neither surprising nor something he cared much for, and looking very different compared to his usual self. For one, he’d had to don a suit, of all things. For another, he’d even gone through all the trouble of wrapping his hair, which reached just above his shoulders these days, in a decidedly primped low knot. And if all of that had been done to elicit the attention of a single Obi-Wan Kenobi, so what? Who was there to judge Anakin for it?

The party was every bit like the other large company functions he’d been made to attend—terribly boring and awkward. There were so many employees, so many people he’d never seen before but that alone did not make up for the bland atmosphere. People talked in the groups of their departments or slunk back, like himself, begging for the mercy of a false fire alarm. Had he been given a choice, he’d not be here at all. But perhaps as the creator of the upcoming line, or perhaps simply because he’d finally reached the end of HR’s patience with him, here he was. 

The 'highlight' of the evening was none other than Sheev Palpatine’s speech itself, which spanned too long and was in fact most boring of all the things tonight. Full of pretentious praise and self-assigned importance, like the man himself.

_Kriff, here we go_.

“To power,” Palpatine said his trademark line, at which point a couple of poorly suppressed snickers could be heard all the way from the back. “To the unlimited power of the corporation!”

Anakin rolled his eyes and sought Obi-Wan by instinct but could not find him, everyone seated and clustered tightly together. He himself had been assigned a seat towards the front and chances were, Obi-Wan was probably somewhere behind him. Anakin really couldn’t have a single thing going for him these days, could he? While Palpatine went on with his speech to address some of the year’s hardest workers and thank them by name, he zoned out and focused his attention on _not_ craning his neck to look for Obi-Wan. He was still fighting the impulse when he heard Palpatine say:

“—and to Anakin Skywalker.” The man in question looked up sharply like he’d been called out by a schoolteacher, having regressed seven years in a single second. “Without whom, JEDI Technologies may very well have been just another company competing for a meager market share this year. Instead, we are the leaders of the next technological era.”

_Yeah, right. Gas me up all you want but I still don’t give a kriff about that clone series you want me to build for you_ , chuba sleemo.

Outwardly, Anakin nodded because that was what was expected of him. Then, he flushed, having just realised that many a pair of eyes had fallen upon him. Normally, only a few people had met him long enough to associate his face with the name and even now, some employees didn’t know who they were supposed to look at. But he still felt himself flush furiously under the sudden attention.

After Palpatine’s long-winded speech, the party was fully underway and decidedly better than before, with food and drink arriving in great supply to deter attention away from the apparent lack of anything else of interest. Anakin clutched his empty glass of champagne as he bypassed the buffet and made his way straight for the bar, choosing to observe the party from afar. He nursed his second glass, leaning with his elbows against the bartop. Certainly a lot more bearable now that he was away from the crowd. He always felt terribly out of place in functions like these. It was the atmosphere, so corporate and stiff, so alien. Perhaps Anakin was still hung up on the university parties where the whole point was to get trashed and shed appearances, no one to judge you. Well, that had been university and this was work. _Welcome to adult life._ He was still fighting the transition. And right now, he felt like the only child in the room.

Finally, Anakin spied Obi-Wan on the other side of the room. Of course, the man wasn’t looking at him, nor did he appear to be looking _for_ him, not like Anakin had been for the whole night. He was in a circle of people, only one of which Anakin had seen before, the conversation lively and good-humoured if one were to go by Obi-Wan’s easy expression and buoyant laugh. He seemed so far away, so unattainable that it was honestly baffling Anakin had even considered himself worthy of that attention directed towards him. Looking at Obi-Wan, it felt like everything had happened in Anakin’s imagination and he’d been ever the fool for imagining someone like Obi-Wan Kenobi would ever spare him a glance.

“Another one, sir?” the bartender asked once Anakin drained the rest of his glass.

He shook his head, then navigated his way out of the ballroom and into the bathroom, where he stayed a long time, splashing water on his face and waiting for it to dry. _Not today either then._ Anakin frowned. No, he wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t envious of those people who had earned the right to see Obi-Wan's smile. Or so he told himself. But he _was_ ready to go home and watch holos until three in the morning now that the formalities were over.

“My, my, if it isn’t the poster boy himself,” said a vaguely familiar voice behind him. Anakin looked up to see Quinlan through the mirror. “Fancy meeting you here, of all places.”

Anakin raised a brow. “The bathroom?”

“The Party. Also shockingly alone. I'm so used to seeing you with Ben.” _Please don’t say it. Please don’t_ — “Speaking of, something happen between you two or . . . ?”

“ _Keepuna!”_ Anakin exclaimed, slipping into his first language by instinct. “Do you all ever _work_ at Marketing or do you just sit around and gossip over Pivot tables?”

“Hey now, I only told Asajj but well, she lives and breathes for this. I’m sure she couldn’t help herself from sharing it with the rest even if she tried.”

_Right. Tell Asajj Ventress a secret and you might as well have sent an email to the whole company._ “And who told you? Obi-Wan?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

Oh, this couldn’t be good. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , I know you only had eyes for Ben that night but I was there too. At the Outlander?”

Oh—

“Who do you think dragged him there?” Quinlan chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “That stubborn bantha was on about the Outlander’s cantina band for months but actually going on his own? Yeah, kriff _that_ , I’ll sooner live to see Windu smile.” He shuddered. “The horror!”

Anakin was going through various lengths of mental gymnastics. He’d known Quinlan _looked_ familiar. But to think the guy had borne witness to Anakin’s possibly—probably—quite desperate attempts to get himself in his best friend’s bed. Right in front of him. The horror indeed! He felt himself flush with embarrassment.

“—we were on our fifth drink—well, I think _I_ was but you can never tell with Ben,” Quinlan continued. “That man’s got the best sabacc face, I swear if only he’d agree to play . . . Anyway, he didn’t care much for the guys that came to chat. I mean, he’s always been picky as kriff.” He rolled his eyes. “But then you showed up. The poor bastard didn’t even finish his drink before he let you drag him out. It was skrogging pathetic actually, seeing him so whipped. Like in some rom-holo—”

Whipped? Obi-Wan Kenobi, whipped?

_—I don’t do casual—that night was an exception—I know it doesn't mean anything to you—but it does to me—so instead of insulting my feelings further—_

_Oh . . ._

_Oh_ , _Obi-Wan, was this . . . Was it how you've felt from the start?_

_While I was taking you between my legs, were you hoping I'd ask for your name? In the morning, did you wish I'd stay for breakfast? That I'd give you my number when you kissed me at the door? When you saw me again, did you fill with panic as I did, or did it give you hope still? And that look, Obi-Wan? Did I read it as I should? Were you also thinking about that time, wishing that every night could be just like it? When I kissed you, did it feel like a dream for you, as it did for me? And when you convinced yourself that all I was looking for was another shag, was that your fear talking? Just as I've let my own fears talk for weeks?_

“—and I know he won’t tell you this himself but—”

Someone entered the bathroom, the music from the ballroom suddenly flooding in and drowning out some of Quinlan’s words. But Anakin really didn’t care to hear them, not unless they were coming from Obi-Wan himself. They needed to talk.

“—much too stubborn to admit—”

“I’m sorry, I need to go.”

Quinlan smiled in victory, like he had been anticipating it all along. That man was no fool. “He was heading out. Before I came here. You might still catch him if—”

But there was no _if_. Anakin was already out of the door. Nearly collided with a table, with a waiter, with Windu. Oh, how he didn’t care for any of it. He dashed to the coat check, stopping to tap his metal fingers on the counter as he looked around. Not here. Not there. Too late, was he too late?

“Blazes, aren’t you in a rush!” he heard an all too familiar voice say behind him. “You nearly swept me over, Anakin.”

He turned around, hope like wildfire now. Obi-Wan looked absolutely fetching before him and it was no surprise. If he’d looked good in a simple polo and trousers, now clad in that suit, blue velvet with silver pinstripes, he looked like a supernova in the darkness of deep space. His jacket lay wide at the cuffs of his sleeves but tapered impossibly slim to his already narrow waist. The right side of the flap folded over his chest and clipped to a button below the side of his collar, the naked stretch of which lay exposed to Anakin’s gaze. Did he know how he looked right now? Did he even realise?

“Leaving already?” Anakin forced himself to finally speak, though his voice betrayed how shaky he felt.

“Naturally. I grow weary of formalities,” Obi-Wan said with conviction and leaned by the desk as he waited for a clerk to fetch his coat. “Besides, all that small talk bores me. I tire of having to pass from one conversation to another that is exactly like it.”

Anakin blinked. “Just how much have you had to drink?”

“Enough to know I’d best be on my way.”

The clerk returned with their coats. Obi-Wan simply folded the garment over his forearm and ventured outside into the chilly night, not at all too bothered—not of the cold and certainly not if Anakin would follow him, it seemed. But of course Anakin did, though he did pull his own coat on and even turned up the collar. He’d always hated the cold. Though perhaps not as much as he loathed the sandy deserts of his home country, Tatooine.

Obi-Wan looked like he was about to flag down a hovercab, but Anakin laid a hand to his forearm to stop him.

“Can’t we talk?”

Obi-Wan didn’t even turn to face him. “Look, I’m terribly sorry about my outburst last week, I’m embarrassed to have said those things to you. But there’s nothing to talk about, Anakin. I’d rather we just put this behind us if you don’t mind.”

“Well, I _do_ mind. I have something to say.”

“Don’t you always?” He sighed. “Just because I’m buzzed doesn’t mean I’ll go back on my word. If that’s what you were hoping for.”

“It isn’t.”

“I don’t do casual.”

“You’ve told me that already, Obi-Wan.”

“And I want to make it very clear, Anakin,” he warned. “You need to understand, this wouldn’t be a nameless fuck for me.”

“I don't want it to be!” Anakin said. “I think I’ve left you with the wrong impression about many things so _please_ , just give me a chance to explain. A few minutes, that’s all I’m asking for, Obi-Wan.”

Truth was, he knew that Obi-Wan would not refuse listening to what he had to say, not when Anakin was all but pleading him then and there. Not picking up the phone was one thing but walking away right now? Obi-Wan would never do it. It hadn’t much to do with Anakin himself, he very well realised that. Obi-Wan would never turn _anyone_ down for the chance to speak. It was who he was. And he was perfect, so much better than Anakin could ever hope himself to be. Still, his silence stretched too long, painfully cold in comparison to the lively warmth of their usual conversations.

Underneath the harsh light of the street lamps, Obi-Wan finally nodded. “Let’s take a walk. I'd rather not have this conversation here.”

They crossed the street and walked without direction, away from the party and into the bustle of nighttime Coruscant. Around them, the city was alive as ever, business flourishing despite the lateness of the hour. The entertainment district wasn't far away, and Anakin glimpsed its flashy lights and crowded streets into the distances. They rounded the next junction, still in silence, and walked down one of the green alleys. The trees swooped down low on their path, branches heavy under the weight of Sunday's snow.

Obi-Wan was silent, not looking at Anakin at all, not even once. His expression was serious, the wrinkles on his forehead drawn up as tension continued to radiate off of him. It was painful to see him like this. All Anakin wanted to do was to reach out and with his fingertips, with his lips, smooth out the lines of tension that were all his fault. But he couldn't do that. He could only use his words—of which all were tangled together in a downright mess. Tug at one of them too hard and they'd all come gushing forth.

“I’ve hurt you, I know I have,” he spoke at last. “And it kills me because it's the last thing I wanted. It was never my intention to bring you pain, Obi-Wan, I swear it. If nothing else tonight, at least believe that.”

Obi-Wan pulled his coat on, the fact that he hadn’t done so until now sending spikes of shivers through Anakin, who was still every bit freezing. He shifted uncomfortably. “I do. I know it wasn’t.”

“Then do you still mean what you said, or was it just in the moment?”

“Which part?”

“That I'd use you. That I've made you feel convenient.”

The man sighed. “I thought this was supposed to be me giving you the courtesy of listening, not the other way around.”

“Right . . .” Anakin wrapped his coat tighter around himself, feeling small and uneasy. He wished he was anywhere but here and yet, there was no other place for him to be. Only being around Obi-Wan made sense these days. “I can't stand the thought that I've made you think so little of yourself. Obi-Wan, in just the month I've known you, you're already the closest person I have. You and Ahsoka. She's my best friend and it took me _years_ to open up to her. You mean so much to me and you don't know. How do you _not_ know?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I thought I knew but on Friday—”

“But on Friday you thought that all I’m looking for is something casual? Why, because you think I like it that way? I don’t. I hate it.”

A cloud of warm breath collided with the cool night air as Obi-Wan exhaled. “There’s no need to pretend, Anakin. As I said—”

“It’s the truth,” Anakin interrupted him. “The night we met, I hated not knowing anything about you. I hated not asking for your name. I hated that I couldn’t ask you about that silly Figrin D’an poster in your living room. Or about that kriffing holopicture of you sky rowing over Kashyyyk—”

“Blazes, Anakin, you could have just asked about any of those things! It’s so simple! I’d have much preferred it if you had, instead of letting me think you simply weren’t interested beyond the sex.”

“But I couldn’t ask! I don’t get names. I don’t get breakfast in the morning or whatever else!”

“That’s rubbish.”

“Is it?” Anakin said and he didn’t bother to hide the pain, the regret he felt. Because Obi-Wan needed to _understand_. “It would hurt so much if I allowed myself those things, Obi-Wan. I’ll cling to them. To you, to everyone I meet. The more I know about you the more I'd wish I could have met you differently. I'd wish we could have gone for caf first and done this right! But what's the point? We'll be done in an hour and then I'll never even see you again. So I don’t ask. I don’t get to know. Because it’s too much and it’s always been like that. _I_ _have always been too much!”_ He took a shaky breath, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “No one wants me. No one's ever wanted me for more than that.”

Obi-Wan had gone really quiet, standing as still as a rock and looking as though _he_ was the one who'd just been choking around those words. “Who hurt you so much, dear one?”

Anakin straightened. “What? That’s not what I said—”

“You didn’t need to say it, my dear. It's there, between your words.” Obi-Wan's hand rose to touch him, to close his fingers around Anakin's and twine them together. His grip was gentle but firm. “I don’t know who hurt you and you needn’t tell me about them should you not want to but . . . Anakin, surely you realise this can’t be good for you?”

Anakin swallowed thickly around the onslaught of emotions rising from his chest. His eyes burned and it wasn't from the cold. He was pathetic.

“I know it isn't,” he confessed. “I keep thinking it’ll go away the more I do this but it just gets worse. Every time . . .”

Obi-Wan took him by surprise then, when he pulled Anakin in his arms and wrapped them around him as though to shield him from the rest of the world. Anakin all but melted in his embrace, feeling himself fight the nervous shudders and the tears, and the shaky breaths. Obi-Wan's left hand moving up to cradle the nape of his neck, to feed him warmth and reassurance. Anakin felt undeserving of it. But he was greedy; he accepted it anyway.

“I'm here for you,” Obi-Wan whispered close enough to his ear that even in his low voice, the words still carried over the noise of the city, the wind, the loud beat of Anakin's heart. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

“Please, just . . . It’s enough that you let me finish what I want to say.”

“Okay. I'm here,” Obi-Wan said again.

Anakin withdrew a little. Just enough that he could face him, even if it was hard to. Obi-Wan's grip on him loosened, his hands sliding down to Anakin's waist so he could allow Anakin space without letting go.

“You said it doesn't mean anything to me. It didn't at the start. I didn’t intend to know you, Obi-Wan. But then . . .” He paused, took a long breath. “But then I _met_ you and I got your name. I learned so many things about you. So many, Obi-Wan! And every day you proved that you could never be casual to me. You were everything but you weren’t mine and I couldn’t let go of the thought that I’ve just been part of your life for a moment. ”

“Oh, Anakin . . .”

But the boy just barrelled on. “A moment, that’s it. And then? Nothing! Just me pining for my one-night stand.”

“I thought—”

“I know what you thought. And I did nothing to correct you because I was scared to admit I’m interested. I couldn’t imagine picking up the pieces if you said you weren’t.”

Obi-Wan sighed and was silent for a few moments as Anakin struggled to even out his breathing.

Around them, the bustle of the city continued on, though it lay forgotten. The night air was cold, still had far too much bite in its winds but Anakin no longer felt any of it. They could be anywhere and he still wouldn't have noticed. His attention lay all on Obi-Wan and the subtle shifts in his expression. He looked far from his usual composed self. Pained. Tired. And a dozen other things, passing like clouds across the heart-stopping perfection that was his face under the bright moon. 

Finally, Obi-Wan's gaze found his own. “Let’s get one thing straight.”

“Okay,” Anakin conceded in a small voice.

“When we first met, you approached me and you were charming and witty, and gorgeous. I wanted you badly enough that I couldn’t resist taking you home, even when I’ve turned down so many offers just like yours. I made an exception.”

“Do you regret it?”

The man's hands seemed to grasp tighter around Anakin's waist. “No, of course not. I told you. I regret only that I haven’t been more open to you from the start,” he said. “You're not the only one who clings to people, Anakin. I fear that in my own way, I’ve made this worse for you. I thought I was transparent in how I feel but I was simply being silent. I left you to figure everything out on your own.”

Anakin swallowed. “Then what now? What do we do from here?”

Obi-Wan turned away, his profile sharp and beautiful. “I think . . If you’re looking for another night with me, we shouldn’t. I’m sorry. I can’t do it and neither should you. I don’t think it would help either of us.”

Anakin felt his chest constrict, tight and stiff.

Despite his words, Obi-Wan turned to him again and his eyes were still so full of hope. “But if you want something more, you can follow me back to mine and we can make it work. Maybe it will last, maybe it won’t.” He was watching Anakin intently now. “I can’t promise you it will be perfect but I hope you’d want to take a chance with me either way.”

There was no doubt inside of Anakin's mind, for the answer came simple and natural. How could he not? How could Anakin refuse that which he had wanted all along?

_I won’t run anymore. You are my exception, just as I was yours_.

“Take me home with you,” he said. It was cold and the wind was harsh against forehead and cheeks, but none of that could deter him. “There isn’t anyone else I’d rather be with than you, Obi-Wan. We'll make it last.”

And this time, when Obi-Wan leaned in, it felt so right. The two came close enough for their lips to meet in a soft kiss, one that started as a cry for help and deepened desperately. One that, with its sincerity, seemed to taunt them for holding back the feelings they'd had for each other all along. And as Obi-Wan took his breath upon his lips, he was gentle and unhurried but not cautious. No, not this time. Right here, right now, his kiss was tender in the way that the breeze was forgiving after a storm. Soothing the grieving souls that had survived long enough to see the rising sun.

  
  


══════════════════

  
  


Obi-Wan held open the door to his flat for him, looking handsome and dashing, and a thousand other things for which Anakin had neither the vocabulary nor the mind. It was the other man’s hand, warm against Anakin’s lower back. It was the kisses they’d just shared underneath the moonlight. All of it, all of Obi-Wan, was every bit Anakin's undoing. 

“I didn’t have a chance to say this earlier but you look delectable,” Obi-Wan said, looking back at him while a wide smile played across his lips.

Anakin pulled him closer, tugging with the arm he’d wrapped around his waist. “What a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

“Since when do you use words like _delectable?”_

“ _Edible_ then,” Anakin lamented. “You look edible tonight.”

And he did, always had. Now, in the dark blue suit, with the neat pinstripes, and his hair laced back. At the end of the workday, with two topmost buttons of his shirt undone and his trousers creased at the knees. That night, the way he’d been, that content smile, that perfect look in his eyes. The way he would be tonight too.

Obi-Wan chuckled. “You have an odd way with compliments.”

“As long as they work,” Anakin countered with a grin.

“Oh, they do. Though I’m afraid I may be the only one who thinks so.”

“You’re the only one that matters anyway,” Anakin replied and for once, it was apparently the right thing to say.

In the hallway, their shoes carelessly discarded to the side, Obi-Wan leaned towards him. And finally, after so long, Anakin didn’t need to hide the need, the want. He saw no reason to and so he leaned in too, to touch, fingers running lightly along Obi-Wan’s hair as the man laid soft kisses to his neck. And where Obi-Wan’s lips trailed, they left sparks like fireworks, setting the delicate skin ablaze.

Anakin leaned down, down until his lips brushed Obi-Wan’s and he kissed him deep and slow, and long until he was drawing out their breath.

“Should we take this elsewhere?”

“That’s a thought.” Obi-Wan offered back a heady smile. “Somewhere with a bed?”

“ _Mmm,_ ” came the simple response. 

Even though Anakin had done this a hundred times over, he suddenly felt so bashful as he let Obi-Wan guide him, the fingers of their hands twined together. He felt so conscious of the way his heart thrummed louder and louder, of how his skin burned and shivered with anticipation where Obi-Wan had laid his kisses just moments ago. But beyond that, beyond this new-found timidness, Anakin felt safe and secure, and all the little but significant things that told him this was finally right.

“Care for some Corellian wine?” Obi-Wan asked as they passed the kitchen.

Anakin shook his head. 

They were both already slightly buzzed. Just enough, the mood just right. He didn’t need anything more, anything else. Just Obi-Wan and the moment when he led him to his bed. The moment he began to work on the buttons of Anakin’s shirt, careful and precise as he always was about everything. The moment they lied bare atop the sheets and Anakin heard Obi-Wan say:

“Stars, you’re perfect.”

Anakin knew he wasn’t but the moment _was_ and only that mattered. Still, he would try. No matter how long it took to get there, he would try to be perfect for him, only for him. For Obi-Wan, who was now his. 

Leaning over him, Obi-Wan descended upon Anakin’s lips again, the kiss long, and wet, and filthy. Anakin chased the feeling of Obi-Wan’s lips against his, unwilling to be separated from that wonderful sensation, but the man pulled back with a smile that seemed to mock his lack of patience. 

Obi-Wan trailed the path of Anakin’s chin to the cradle of his neck with his lips. Sparks darted in their wake, his hot breath like fire and the wet trails of his tongue like kerosene to fuel it. Down Anakin's neck. Around the curve of his bare shoulders and in the hollows of his collarbones. Around his nipples, where pleasure bordered on pain, just the right amount of both, as Obi-Wan gently pressed with his teeth and caressed with his tongue. And his fingers, his clever fingers, exploring Anakin’s body as though he was drawing the map to a previously uncharted island.

Then, Obi-Wan’s lips were travelling further down, down the line of Anakin’s stomach. Down to the inside of his thighs. And Anakin’s cock twitched, aroused by the proximity and yet denied the attention.

“Someone’s eager,” Obi-Wan mused.

“And you aren’t?”

“I take pleasure in drawing it out.”

Obi-Wan’s lips returned to his thigh and Anakin shuddered. “That’s what I call a tease, you know.”

“I do know,” Obi-Wan said confidently. “I also happen to know just how much you liked it last time.”

Always so logical, so reasonable, even when his lips were trailing the curves of Anakin’s ass.

He felt Obi-Wan spread his legs then, his palms sliding from his thighs up to the sides of his buttocks. Anakin could do nothing to suppress the groan that erupted from his chest at the sensation that was the warm, wet tongue lapping at the ring of muscle, coaxing it to yield.

And Anakin’s body did yield, so easily it was almost embarrassing, as he felt Obi-Wan’s tongue sink in and make its way through him. It was too easy—Anakin was already so loose. Mere hours ago, he’d fucked himself in the shower, knowing he’d be late to the party but unable to stop the lewd desires for Obi-Wan. Even if he’d felt shame then, for he’d been fucking himself to the thoughts of a man who’d not spoken to him in days, he’d still come undone, pretending it had been Obi-Wan’s fingers that had twisted and scissored inside him.

Between his legs, Obi-Wan tensed, the motions of his tongue suddenly stilting, growing slow and hesitant.

Oh—

“Obi-Wan, look at me,” Anakin beseeched, realising what that hesitation meant. “There hasn’t been anyone else since you. There couldn’t be,” he said as the man lifted himself up on one elbow. “Today when I touched myself, and every time since that night, I’ve thought only of you.”

“Me?”

“Who else?” Anakin smiled at him fondly. “Is it really that hard to believe?”

“I’m sorry. Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. When I hurled those awful words at you, I had no right. I was bitter and it twisted me into something terribly cruel. You didn’t deserve how I treated you.”

Anakin shook his head. “Obi-Wan, there’s no need to apologise.”

“Yes, there is. It wasn’t fair of me to—”

“Please,” Anakin interrupted. “Please just kiss me. It’s all the apology I need.”

His words beckoned Obi-Wan, who raised himself to find solace in the duet of their lips. Anakin abandoned himself in the kiss, trying to ease Obi-Wan’s mind off the worries that Anakin might not be his. Because he was. Only his. It felt ridiculous to think otherwise.

And by the time Obi-Wan returned to his thighs, to the skin that begged for his touch, something had shifted. They had both shed the weight of their blunders, Anakin supposed. His vision hooded beneath lids heavy from desire, he could see Obi-Wan’s auburn hair between the spread of his legs. And what he felt—oh _kriff_ , what he felt. He ached. He _ached_ around the feel of Obi-Wan’s beard on his sensitive skin, and the pressure of his lips, and the unexpected twist of his tongue. Anakin closed his eyes and breathed raggedly. He was clenching around Obi-Wan’s tongue. He was painfully hard. 

Though Obi-Wan was as careful as ever, there was a sense of abandon and urgency about him. It told Anakin he was just as fallible to the greed of impatience as Anakin was, even if he liked to think otherwise. He seemed to strain in his efforts to taste him deeper still. Tugging on the grip around Anakin’s thighs to pull his body closer. Dipping and twisting his tongue inside of him again and again, until Anakin was moaning brokenly.

As Obi-Wan worked him open with his tongue, more for their pleasure than the preparation at this point, Anakin’s hand trailed to his cock, achingly neglected. And was quickly slapped away.

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” Anakin groaned desperately.

Between his shaking thighs, he felt Obi-Wan pull back with a wet smack. “Are we in a rush?”

“Tease.”

“So you've told me,” he mocked. “Now do try to hold out for me, my dear. I’d hate to lose you halfway.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Always so competitive.” Obi-Wan smiled. “And so thoroughly predictable.”

Anakin sighed. The only thorough thing about him was that he’d just been thoroughly eaten out. 

Challenge or not, Anakin was going to take Obi-Wan up on it. He wasn’t one to deny himself like this but perhaps, perhaps just this once, he’d wear himself out first, stretch it out thin. Because when Obi-Wan gave him that smile, that wide grin which seemed so unrestrained, it was exceptionally difficult to deny him anything.

Though of course, such things were easier said than done. His resolve seemed shaken when Obi-Wan took him upon his fingers. Because oh how pleasantly Anakin burned around the added sensation of the bactalube, those tingling waves of hot and cold. And how pleasantly those clever fingers crooked and twisted, and turned inside him, sending lancing jolts of pleasure in their expert motions. It was slow and agonising preparation, just as Obi-Wan had promised him it would be. He was driving him mad and Anakin was begging— _pleading_ —without a sound, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His cock drooled its beading pleasure across his stomach, so on the edge already, _already_ , and they’d not even just begun. 

He felt mercy, a twisted mercy, when Obi-Wan wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the base of Anakin’s cock, demanding that he save himself just yet. Anakin groaned, trying to breathe around the build-up, around the tremble and the quakes as he fought his body.

And then finally, _finally_ , Obi-Wan rose before him. He stroked himself, pumping out the first wet traces of his own need with a groan. Another hiss followed as he spread some of the smooth gel, the same that had made Anakin twist and bend with pleasure around his fingers, down his length. The man looked wayward and outwrestled, flushed to the short fuzz on his chest. So unlike his usual self. So unlike the carefully guarded Obi-Wan Kenobi. There was something positively wild in the glint of his eye and the edge of his smile now. It was a look that Anakin wouldn’t mind seeing on him more often.

“Alright there?” Anakin gathered himself enough to ask, just to hear if the man’s voice was as wrecked as he looked.

Obi-Wan chuckled—what escaped him was a breathy sound. “Quite. Just mildly winded.”

_Mildly?_ Anakin wanted to protest—the man looked battered already—but his mind quietened suddenly, in anticipation, as Obi-Wan pulled him close. His left hand pressed atop Anakin’s inner thigh, pushing down, and the other guided him inside.

Anakin throbbed around the sensation of his body parting to give harbour to Obi-Wan. He burned and trembled from the stretch to take him in, to fit him perfectly. And the silky feel of the gel tingled so divinely, like waves of hot and cold. He instinctively reached for anchor and found it with his palm pressed to Obi-Wan’s stomach, fingers splayed out. Not to stop him; merely to seek purchase and ground himself.

“Finally,” he groaned as they sat there, pressed together, the feeling too overwhelming at first for either of them to move.

Obi-Wan leaned down to kiss him—on the forehead, the space between his brows, on the cheeks, the corners of his mouth. “I’ll teach you patience one day, darling.”

Anakin rewarded him with a grin. “But not today.”

“No, apparently not.”

Obi-Wan seized Anakin’s legs, holding them up by that delicate skin behind the knee, and locked himself between them. He pulled out slowly, rolling his hips in a display of perfect control, and pushed back in. His cock wasn’t too long, nor was it very thick, but it was all about the way Obi-Wan made Anakin feel. With his fingers too, his lips, his tongue, his gaze. Good sex was all of that. And Obi-Wan Kenobi was exceptionally good in bed.

Anakin embraced the feeling, his right hand still on Obi-Wan’s stomach, moving up the naked stretch of his chest to tease his nipples with cold metal fingertips, and the other making to squeeze Obi-Wan’s buttock, urging him to action. 

The man just smiled as he went in again. This time, he was showing Anakin mercy, finally— _finally_ —picking up speed, that leisurely pace left behind for something hard and sensual, and sweaty. He bore deeper and with each roll of his hips, Obi-Wan jounced Anakin’s cock, making it drip its pleasure. Anakin was burning for it. Burning up. He thrust back into the pillows. Felt his hair had come undone from its knot and now gathered loosely around, clinging to the sweat on his neck and face. 

“If only you could see yourself right now . . .” Obi-Wan smiled down at him, the look about him a little delirious. “You make such a beautiful sight. I was a fool to delude myself that I could look at you and not want you like this.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin moaned his name, feverish and desperate.

“Stars, I sound so good on you.” The man groaned. “Such a waste that we didn’t exchange names that night. You haven’t the faintest idea how badly I wanted to hear you fall to pieces around mine, gasping for me.” He parted Anakin’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss but did not chase it further, instead demanding that they whisper in the intimacy of their shared breath, not an inch to separate them. “Say it, Anakin,” he breathed. “Say it again. I want to taste my name on your lips.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin moaned against his mouth. “Obi-Wan.” And again, and again. Until it was all just a blowout of ragged gasps. “Obi—O—Obi-Wan, please—”

“What do you need, darling?”

“You,” he pushed the desperate sound past his lips like a whispered wet confession. 

“You have me.”

“Closer, I need you closer— _please_ —”

Obi-Wan folded over him then, their bodies pressed so close it felt impossible to think there could be space left between them at all. He nestled in the space to the side of Anakin's neck, their faces now pressed cheek to cheek. The scratch of his beard sent sparks against Anakin’s skin as his body thrust and thrust. Anakin was completely lost in him. He closed his eyes, feeling the other’s body a shelter as the warmth of him engulfed Anakin in flames. His arms sought for more of him, for his body heat. One hand snaked around Obi-Wan’s shoulder and the other moved at the nape of his neck, and his legs wrapped around narrow hips.

The change of angle sent Obi-Wan throbbing into him and pushing deeper inside still. The man did not snap his hips in sharp thrusts, he did not buck. Instead, Obi-Wan rolled his hips in slow, sensually deliberate circles, like waves that when receding nearly pulled him out of Anakin entirely, leaving just the tip, and then ebbed full-bodied and buried deep within him. It should have driven Anakin mad with impatience but he was so swept by the current of Obi-Wan’s lovemaking—for there was no other word for it, this was more than sex—that he could barely trust himself to make a thought. Anakin’s cock had never been harder, nearly as delirious with pleasure as his mind was. This thing they were doing now felt different. Anakin knew sex but not like this. Not this overwhelming intimacy which felt so profound that he could feel an ache of happiness traverse him. He felt himself stretched across the boughs of his senses.

Anakin was ready to come apart as soon as he felt Obi-Wan's cock grind against that spot which thrummed inside him like a second heartbeat. He came in flashes, Obi-Wan’s name falling off his tongue as though it was the only word he knew. And at that moment, it was the only word he needed.

“I’ve got you, love,” Obi-Wan whispered in his ear as Anakin clenched around his thrusts and quaked underneath his body. “I’ve got you.”

As Obi-Wan continued his pace, Anakin tried to ride out the orgasm with his hips, snapping wildly and erratically. He spilled in the space between his stomach and Obi-Wan’s chest, the rub of Obi-Wan’s skin on his cock making him ache, his body weep. His back bowed and arched, his senses unable to resist being swept by the waves that came and went through him like currents of electricity. He gasped for air; his lungs heaved for more. His skin felt so sensitive, charged with static, even the little movements causing mayhem. The scratch of Obi-Wan’s beard now so intense. The push of his thrusts almost too much to bear.

“Fuck,” he said, regaining command over his voice. “So good—Obi-Wan—”

The man moved back to look at him and smiled. He looked wrecked and beyond. On the edge, grasping for it. Still rolling his hips into Anakin, though now with more urgency as his own orgasm inevitably drew near, he came back down and kissed his passion into Anakin’s mouth, who answered by instinct alone, mind syphoned away. And in his kiss, Obi-Wan tremored desperately. Anakin could feel him throbbing harder inside him. And then Obi-Wan stilled. And he trembled— _trembled_ —in his arms, as he spilled his pleasure. He pressed their foreheads together, gasping for Anakin.

And Anakin kissed him again, Obi-Wan still sheathed inside him, kissed him like it was the only thing to do, even when it hurt to move, to breathe. They heaved for air around their lips with desperation, Obi-Wan’s wrecked moans now Anakin’s.

After a moment more, Obi-Wan rolled off and lied down in pure satisfaction. He was still breathing heavy, chest heaving up and down, as he stretched out next to Anakin, one arm behind his head. His hair was a mess and he looked flush with the afterglow of euphoria. A wide smile crept on his lips. 

Anakin loved him in every way but best like this, he realised. Eyes dazed, lazy, blissed out. Cheeks flushed, their red colour framing the heart-stopping charm of his face. 

With his beautiful body next to him, Anakin felt himself so turned on still, like someone had forgotten the burner on and he was left to simmer and churn until his boil. In the past, whenever Anakin had come undone, that was it. The end of the night. He was done, the thought of going again either suddenly repulsive or completely unwanted. But with Obi-Wan, he could feel his cock stirring, having never completely gone soft.

And Obi-Wan could tell, if his amused smile was anything to go by.

“Already?” he said with a soft sound like a chuckle and leaned over Anakin, resting on his elbows as his hands held down Anakin’s thighs again. “Ah, to be young and eager.”

Anakin scoffed. “You say that like you’re old. You’re not.”

“No, but I’m past the impatience of my twenties,” he said. “You’ll find the slow rush makes for a much better time.”

“So you say but I demand proof.”

“ _Demand_?” Obi-Wan chuckled. “I’m afraid you’re in no liberty to demand anything given you’re at my mercy.”

“But you won’t leave me wanting.”

“So you say,” he threw the words back at him with a small smile.

Obi-Wan held his gaze firmly, demanding his attention like only he could. He lowered himself over Anakin’s cock and without another word, he wrapped his lips around him. The sensation came wet, and hot, and tight, making Anakin respond and swell. He fisted his hand into the sheets, riding out a moan and a shudder as he felt the heat of Obi-Wan’s mouth on him, felt his tongue slide down his length. And then his tongue was trailing the vein of Anakin’s cock and _oh!_ Anakin’s grip on the sheet tightened, his metal fingers strained.

With his other hand, the one where his senses were alive as ever, Anakin caressed the back of Obi-Wan's neck, tugging at the short hairs there and guiding him on his cock. And Obi-Wan dutifully swallowed him down. Down until Anakin was all the way in. Until he was hitting the back of his throat. And then Obi-Wan's tongue, flat underneath Anakin’s cock as he pulled back, flicking to take licks at the tip. He gently slapped Anakin’s cock to his lips before descending upon it again. Unable to contain the pleasure of the sight of Obi-Wan, Anakin groaned and pushed back into the pillow. 

He felt the warm pleasure around him ease, the air in the room suddenly too cold on him without Obi-Wan’s tongue to warm him and his mouth to sheath him.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said simply. In just the word, his meaning was clear. He demanded Anakin’s attention again, almost as if scolding him for looking away. “Look at me.”

And Anakin did, because he couldn’t bear not to. He couldn’t bear to be in his body at all, the sensation from the orgasm that Obi-Wan’s cock had wrung from him still too fresh and the onset of the next one drawing near. It was like someone had let too much electricity running through the system, fraying his nerves. Power surge before the blackout.

Obi-Wan grinned that special smile which Anakin had never seen on anyone else—so wide, with all of his teeth, so unexpectedly open for someone typically so guarded—before he wrapped his lips around him once more. The sight was obscene and beautiful, with strands of his perfect hair falling loosely in front of his eyes, though he didn’t look away, didn’t even blink. Anakin reached out to brush the stray locks away and his palm stayed there, pressed to the side of Obi-Wan’s face. The look on him was easy, languid, and content. If a little lazy too as he basked, unhurried, in his own afterglow. 

Obi-Wan’s tongue flicked out to lightly lap at the tip. “Enjoying the view?”

How could he not? Oh, what a sight that man made—pressed between his thighs, looking up with the relentless heat of a supernova, and knowing exactly how he shattered Anakin apart. 

“Too good” was all Anakin could manage in his state, breathless as he was. Mind undone, body too—once already and about to be unwound a second time.

Content with the answer, if a little amused by it too, Obi-Wan then took him even deeper, until his nose was buried in Anakin’s fuzzy hairs and Anakin was moaning again, the sounds wrung from him as though taken out of some lewd holo he’d been caught watching. But this was better, so much better. Anakin’s metal fingers grasped at the sheets again and with his other hand, he held Obi-Wan down as breathy hisses continued to rock his lips. 

“Obi-Wan—Obi, I—”

For the second time that night, pleasure tore through Anakin. Its sparks rolled through his body in waves and he spilled into Obi-Wan’s warm mouth.

In an obscene sound from somewhere at the back of his throat, Obi-Wan moaned around Anakin’s cock and swallowed. He anchored Anakin’s hips and held down his twitching thighs with strong hands as Anakin bucked. Anakin felt himself shaking beneath his grasp and with great effort, tried to still his hips, to still his spine. Even his gasps for air felt sweaty and feverish, the air in the room suddenly too tight, too warm.

And there was Obi-Wan, pulling away and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smugness dancing on his lips. He pushed himself up on his elbows again and draped himself over Anakin’s chest. He smiled—eyes half-lidded, lips worked red and tender. 

“Sated now?”

Anakin grinned back, still dazed. “Never.”

“Good. Because I was rather hoping I could still show you a thing or two,” Obi-Wan said. “In the morning, and then in the afternoon, and then again . . .”

Anakin raised his left hand and laid his palm to the side of Obi-Wan’s face. Gently, without a thought of impatience or hurry. Time was theirs, and so was everything else in that moment. Anakin traced his fingers over the man’s beard, stroked his cheek. Felt his own breath hitch as Obi-Wan closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, laying his hand atop Anakin’s.

So this was what sex should feel like? Easy, uncomplicated, and intimate beyond the simple needs he’d known before. Perfect . . .

“And then what, Obi-Wan?”

“And then I will show you love, Anakin, like it’s meant to be made” came the response, making his heart skip its next beat. “Beyond the give and take. Beyond what you’ve held back on. I will show you breakfast in the morning and the quiet sleep in my arms. I will give myself to you. I will give you everything,” Obi-Wan whispered. “Please let me.”

Anakin felt an ugly sound, closest to a sob, wring itself free from the confines of his chest. “Obi-Wan, for so long I—I’ve felt so lonely. My life, it’s been such a kriffing mess. But you make it feel right. You make me right.”

Obi-Wan leaned down and Anakin surged up to meet him in a long and tender kiss. Like a curtain, the heavy sensation of euphoria’s last rays draped over them. And in its privacy, Obi-Wan’s lips asked for peace and Anakin answered, kissing back with hazed, drawn-out passion. He tasted himself on Obi-Wan’s tongue and though perhaps it should have felt vulgar to enjoy such a thing, it didn’t. Instead, it felt like another reminder that this was different. That there could be nothing to hide between him and Obi-Wan, no shame or regret to be had.

“Let me take you on a date this weekend.”

“Like a real one? As your boyfriend?”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Yes, Anakin, as my boyfriend.”

In turn, Anakin _beamed_ at him. “Can we go to the Skydome? Actually, I think it's closed in the winter. Nevermind then, how about the Opera House? Oh, or! Do you think Max Rebo is still doing _Coruscant Nights?_ Or—” His voice was breathless, mind still in shambles. And Obi-Wan was just looking on at him so fondly, so patiently. Like he would take him to another planet if Anakin just asked . . . “Kriff, I think I love you.”

And one day, he’d trust himself enough to say it as he should. _I love you_. Nothing else to clutter that statement, to take away from it. He was nearly there already, so close. But for now, this was enough. 

“So uncivilised,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle. “Must be why I think I love you too.”

“Should I feel offended? I can’t decide.” But nothing in his tone suggested he was anything short of perfectly content and both of them knew it.

“On the contrary. Now come on. Join me in the shower.”

“Kiss me again first.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Capital idea.”

And it felt so perfect, like they were two pieces to a single puzzle, together at last. United as one. The feeling just right, just how it should be. Anakin hadn’t realised when his fears had fallen away, but they now lay buried underneath the overwhelming sensation that was Obi-Wan in his arms. Obi-Wan, his. _Obi-Wan_ . . .

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out quite sappy, huh? I don't know what weird idea fell upon me to write this but if you've made it to the end, thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this wee fic! :)
> 
> A few notes to make, I suppose. First of which is: this fic may be a joke but unhealthy behaviour like the one portrayed here is not. So please, if you happen to be struggling, confide in someone you trust. One of my best friends from uni has been the Anakin and I've been the Ahsoka who couldn't find a matching pair of socks after seeing twelve voice messages at 6am on a Saturday and it's not pretty. Second, please excuse any mistakes you've come across, I wrote this in the flash of a few days spent in hyperfocus and then could barely make myself edit it all because my concentration is far worse than even Anakin's. Maybe I'll find the inner discipline to proofread this again in a few days. Lastly, on a more light-hearted note, I debated on condoms (there's gotta be a joke in there somewhere) but then I thought: _so they have advanced droids like C-3PO in this world but they haven't figured out how to eradicate sexually transmitted diseases? Somethin' ain't adding up_. So yeah, why I decided to share this useless trivia is beyond me. Anyway . . . 
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. If you want to drop a line and share 'em, I'd be most happy to read!
> 
> Thanks for reading and take care, dear ones! :)  
> 
> 
> — Rina


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